Standing at the Edge of the World
by thestarkswillendure
Summary: Out of all the times for a zombie apocalypse to break it out, it had to be when Tony was away from home. Sometimes Tony thought these things happened to him as a long running cosmic joke. Surely someone out there hated him with the fire of a thousand suns.
1. Chapter 1

The repulsors sputtered as the last of the energy drained away and Tony fell from the sky. The dark asphalt rose up to meet him and it was only by quick reflexes that Tony managed to keep his face from permanently merging with the suits helmet. That's about as far as his luck went. The noisy landing would be sure to attract the undead.

Out of all the times for a zombie apocalypse to break it out, it had to be when Tony was away from home. Bad enough, he'd been called to DC to have yet another meeting with political assholes who wanted the Iron Man for "the good of the country" without adding in the end of days. Sometimes Tony thought these things happened to him as a long running cosmic joke. Surely someone out there hated him with the fire of a thousand suns.

Tony had been in his hotel room when he first encountered the undead. He was sleeping off the hangover from hell. _Hands traveled up his sides tickling lightly. Light poured in through an open window and a figure above him blurred in and out of view. Pale against the light of the moon. But all he saw was blue... screaming... gunfire...blue blue blue._

Tony startled awake, sitting up in a panic. He regretted that when the blood rushed to his head and he became aware of the dull pounding behind his eyes. Someone outside was screaming and he could hear gunfire. Tony shook off the last vestiges of sleep, clumsily climbing out of bed towards the bedroom window.

The world outside was... dying. Tony stood at the window, now sober, watching as the world he knew crumbled. He watched a woman scream as slobbering inhuman corpses ripped into her. He saw a guy pump bullet after bullet into one of them and finally go down with a shot to the head. The world beginning to burn.

Thinking back on it now, Tony wouldn't have gotten out of there without the suit. Those first few weeks, everyone was taken by surprise. Nobody knew what was happening and by the time we realized, it was already too late. Everyone was dead and gone. Tony hadn't come across another living person in 3 months. He held out on using the suit, trying to save it for emergencies but finally it had run out. He picked himself off the pavement, the suit shrinking back into a suitcase. He slipped the case into the raggedy backpack at his side, shifting the cans of food around. The weight of it slowed him down a bit but Tony had poured his heart, soul and sweat into that suit. The Iron Man was his greatest creation, his cross to bear, his chance to prove himself worthy of Yinsen's sacrifice. Like hell he was leaving his suit lying around in the middle of the apocalypse.

He had to get back to the mansion... find Pepper and Rhodey... maybe try to find a way to reverse this mess. The groans and shuffling of nearby undead pulled Tony out of his reverie. Shouldering the heavy bag, Tony slipped into the doorway of a building nearby just as a horde of undead came around the corner. Looking through the boarded windows, Tony watched grimly as they shuffled past. They looked more and more grotesque every time Tony saw them. Their clothes dirty and tattered, drenched in blood and mud, hair matted and tangled. Skin peeling off and flapping around, limbs hanging limply and those eyes. Milky white eyes, unseeing and devoid of life. Warmth. Love. Hatred. Anything that made us human. Gone.

Tony himself wasn't looking so hot these days either. He'd been trekking through wilderness for a week now, living off canned food and berries. His hair was greasy, his clothes dirty and he reeked to high wanted a hot shower, good food that didn't consist of berries or cold ravioli and clean clothes. More than anything though, Tony wanted company.

In the days Before, Tony would lock himself in his lab for days working until he succumbed to the temptation of sleep or Pepper dragged him out of the lab. He would go days, maybe a week without ever seeing or speaking to another living soul. That self-imposed seclusion was very different from the seclusion Tony found himself in now. Now Tony was increasingly aware of how very lonely he felt, how quiet the world around him was. For the first time in his life, Tony found himself wanting to be around people. All his life he'd been surrounded by people. Those who wanted to use him to elevate their own status, those who kissed up to him, those who hated him and (hard to believe even now) those who genuinely cared about him God knows why. Tony wanted someone who would watch over him as he slept, who could watch his back in a raid. He was tired of startling awake at every little sound, he was tired of always having to look over his shoulder. He wanted to talk aloud and hear another voice answering back. More than anything, Tony wanted to feel safe. Tony wanted some place to call home.

* * *

Steve swung around the corner, sweeping his gun in a wide arc around the empty room. He radioed in on his walkie, hearing Natasha's confirmation that the first floor was clear followed by Clint's report on one undead in the garage. Steve gave the room another cursory glance before he holstered his gun at his hip and marched back downstairs. He could hear hushed voices in the kitchen, voices familiar to him now. It had been three long months since he'd last seen Bucky since they got separated during the chaos of those first few weeks. Steve had been searching for him for almost a month when he met Clint and Natasha. Steve had been cutting down a group of undead that had snuck up on him while he slept and preoccupied with the three undead in front of him, one had snuck up on him from the back. He would have been undead chow if it hadn't been for Clint, who shot the bastard in the head with one of his arrows, and Natasha, who knifed one of them from a distance. The first few days with the master assassins had made Steve uneasy, even with his training as a soldier. lt took a while but eventually Steve had grown to trust them and vice versa. The house they'd found was on the outskirts of the city of Philadelphia.

lt was a picturesque suburban home, the kind with a front garden, a backyard and a white picket fence. It was the kind of home Steve had wanted with Peggy so long ago. A house to settle down in and have a few kids, maybe a little girl that liked princesses so they could decorate her room like the one upstairs.

Steve pushed the thoughts away, walking into the kitchen. Natasha leaned over the maps spread over the table, her red hair catching the light of the setting sun coming through the window, Clint at her side cleaning his arrow of black viscous brain matter. Steve, not for the first time, wondered if there was something there between them. The way they interacted, how comfortable they seemed with each other, the way they moved together seamlessly without words. lt made Steve think of that saying from Plato about human beings being only one half of a whole, forever doomed to spend their lives searching for their other half. His mother had always told him his father had been her other half. Steve wondered if he could ever have that with someone, if anyone would ever stomp into his life and just take command of his heart like Peggy once had. Strong, beautiful Peggy with those soulful brown eyes.

"Steve", Natasha's soft voice pulled him out of his thoughts and Steve stood blinking in the doorway of the room, Clint and Natasha watching him knowingly. Natasha pursed her lips and shook her head, red curls softly springing.

"We'll go over the plan tomorrow. Eat something and get some sleep, you look dead on your feet."

She rolled up the maps, following Clint out of the kitchen. As she passed him, she put her hand to his shoulder, murmuring in Russian.

* * *

Tony walked down the darkened aisles of the supermarket, listening for the telltale signs of the undead. He gripped the wooden handle of the dagger in clammy hands. Even now, years later, Tony couldn't touch guns without having panic attacks and remembering his captivity. It wasn't ideal as he needed to get close enough to stab them in the head but Tony couldn't... the memories overwhelmed him... they choked him.

With the Iron Man suit, it was different. Tony wasn't hurting innocents, he was trying to rid the world of criminals and much of the time, he fought drones. When he did fight actual people, he shot (lasers) to incapacitate them, not kill. Tony had no qualms about killing these things. They weren't human, not anymore.

Tony stopped in the middle of the aisle, grabbing a can of peach preserves and a pack of water bottles. This supermarket was still pretty stocked, hadn't been hit hard during the first waves and Tony had scouted it out a few weeks before he'd gotten turned around in the forest and then decided to turn back.

Ahead Tony could hear the moaning and groaning of the undead, he slowed down, peeking around the corner. At the other end of the aisle, there was about a group of fifteen or so undead shuffling around. Too many for him. Tony tried to move back quietly but his bag caught on the shelf, shifting it forward. The glass jars on the shelf crashed down to the floor and every undead turned towards him. Shit shit shit. Tony turned to run and slipped on the shattered glass, glass embedding in his hands and knees as he caught himself. Hot rancid breath ran down his neck and Tony turned, stabbing blindly. The creature fell over on him, black blood spilling over his shirt. The next few fell on him like crows swarming a carcass. There was too many. He wasn't going to make it. He was going to die in a dingy supermarket, buried under black goo and undead carcasses.

He turned his head to the side as the fifth one eagerly snapped his teeth inches above his cheek. He could feel glass digging in on one cheek and drool and spittle on his other. Fingers slippery with goo, he slashed the knife across the creature's throat. At the same time, he heard the loud bang of gunfire, shouting and the renewed moaning of the undead. Tony shuddered as black goo rained down on him, closing his eyes, waiting. Waiting to live... waiting to die. The final gunshot rang in the sudden silence and Tony could hear footsteps stop before him. He opened his eyes and looked up, past the outstretched hand, to blue eyes.

* * *

Tony squirmed uncomfortably, eyes looking at anything but the annoyingly kind blue eyes. He gritted his teeth as the man picked the glass out of the cut on his cheek to clean the wound. Over the broad shoulders, Tony could see the man's companion. A smug blonde that kept grinning at him with a bow and a quiver of arrows. This was not what Tony had in mind when he imagined company. Katniss 2.0 and a Calvin Klein model, not that Tony didn't appreciate some eye candy but now was so not the crackle of a walkie startled Tony, the metal pincers digging into his cheek painfully.

"Sorry sorry. Was that Tasha?" Blue Eyes spoke up, turning slightly to indicate the last part was for Katniss.

"Few undead but nothing she couldn't handle. I'm gonna help her load everything into the truck," Katniss 2.0 stood from the ledge he was perched on, disappearing down one of the dimly lit aisles. Silence reigned in his absence and Tony swore you could actually cut the tension with a knife, Blue Eyes had now moved on to picking glass from Tony's palms, rough callused fingers brushing against his own.

After a few minutes of silence, much of which Tony had spent reading the fascinating labels off shelved goods, Blue Eyes cleared his throat and Tony glanced at him, only barely catching the slip of blue eyes from under blonde lashes before they turned back to Tony's hand.

"What's your name?"

His voice was smooth and clear and Tony couldn't remember the last time he'd been asked that question. Everyone knew who Tony Stark was! He was on the news like every other day. Where the hell had this guy been for the past few years? Before he could comment on the absurdity of that question, a voice spoke up from the darkness.

"Mr. Stark. I'd say I'm surprised to see you here but you always did have a habit of showing up unexpected."

The voice came from behind him and Tony swore quietly, silently cursing every deity that ever existed. He turned in his seat, pasting on a bland smile.

"Natalie," she stepped from the shadows, piercing him with the same assessing look she'd given him back when she was pretending to be his assistant. Behind her, Katniss followed grinning the same knowing grin.

"You're SHIELD too. Of course, you are. Where's the pirate and Agent Agent? Hiding out in a SHIELD compound, I presume. Does SHIELD even have a contingency plan in place for something like this?"

God it felt good to snark, the undead didn't make for great conversations. Natasha raised an eyebrow, giving him a look that very clearly explained how much she'd like to kill him with her Thighs of Doom.

"Wait you guys know each other?" Blue Eyes spoke up, frowning slightly, brow wrinkling.

"Stark, my companions Captain Steve Rogers of The Howling Commandos and Agent Clint Barton of SHIELD. Steve, Tony Stark of Stark Industries, consultant to SHIELD, constant pain in our ass. I believe he uses a much more different introduction," she smirked at him and Tony leered.

"Billionaire, genius, playboy, philanthropist," he turned the leering grin on Steve, watching as the frown deepened.

"We should get going before more undead come by. Is the truck loaded?"

Katniss 2.0, or rather Barton, nodded an affirmative. Steve nodded and turned to Tony, reaching behind him and untucking a gun from his waistband, holding it out to Tony.

"Noticed you didn't have a gun. Need to be able to protect yourself."

Tony turned away, shivering in the cold carnivorous space.

"I don't need it. I can protect myself just fine with the knife."

He could see Natasha watching him silently on the side, eyes unreadable. Of course she knew. What was privacy in the life of Tony Stark? That was one good thing that had come of this wretched apocalypse. No press. He could only imagine the things they'd say if they saw him now, covering in black goo, scavenging for food.

"Ton-"

"Leave it. He can use the knife, he has back-up now," Natasha picked up one of the bags at Steves feet and disappeared, debate closed for discussion. Tony kind of wanted to hug her but she'd probably stab him in the neck and he wasn't the hugging type.

"You heard the lady, O Captain My Captain," Tony grabbed his own bag, whistling as he followed Barton into the darkness.

* * *

 **NOTE:** Hello! New story here. Hope you guys enjoy. I'll have the next chapter up as soon as I edit.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony Stark was an enigma in the purest sense of the word. Steve couldn't quite wrap his head around it. Tony was incredibly bright, he had the tendency to babble out loud about things Steve couldn't even begin to follow let alone comprehend.

He was also very snarky, more so than anyone Steve had ever met. He brought a lightness to the group that hadn't been there before. Steve wasn't sure if it was the ridiculous babbling that amused them all or the good-nature rivalry he brought out in Clint and the repressed almost fond amusement he brought out in Natasha but Tony was a good addition. Steve could admit that even if his own dealings with Tony were less than pleasant. Tony had a tendency to forego the careful planning and put himself in danger. Steve had been trained never to go into a situation without contingency plans in place, recklessness would kill you. Arguments had broken out between Tony and him several times and it was only the fear of bringing the undead down on their heads that diffused the situation. Steve didn't usually let things get to him but Tony just riled him up.

Let's not get started with the secrecy. There were times, very rare and far in between, that Tony retreated into himself. He'd disappear into his room, he wouldn't come out for hours, skipping dinner. The suitcase was most intriguing of all. He kept it in his bag, a red and gold metallic suitcase. Steve had only seen it a few times but Tony was particularly protective of it. Only Natasha had ever touched it, smiling fondly at it as she stroked a finger over the red paint. Steve couldn't help but think he was missing something important but Steve had only been back home from his second tour for 2 weeks when the outbreak began and it wasn't like he could go search him up on the internet.

The sweet melodic tune of a bird's call reached Steve's ear and he raised his hand to signal Natasha forward. From the corner of his eye, he could see Natasha slinking through the shadows, expertly avoiding the 15 or so undead milling in the parking lot. He turned to follow when the silence of the day was broken by the sounds of distant gunfire. As one, the contingent of undead turned towards the sound and began shuffling forward slowly. From beside him, Tony's lithe figure darted out from behind the trees and Steve's fingers could only brush the back of his shirt before he was out of reach and striding towards the undead.

"Tony!" Steve hissed. Tony reached the first undead and sidestepped as the creature lunged at him, stabbing it in the head as it stumbled around. From the line of trees, arrows flew, embedding themselves in the creature's heads. Natasha stepped from behind the line of cars, dancing circles around the creatures as she cut them down. Steve pushed down his irritation and stepped away from the cover the bushes provided. He struck out at the remaining creatures, black goo splattering his clothes and face. Pulling his knife free from the skull of one undead, he turned to Tony who was calmly cleaning his knife on the shirt of an undead.

"Are you trying to get us killed? Can you possibly think of anyone but yourself?"

Steve could hear the pumping of his blood in his ears and his teeth ground together as he clenched his jaw. Tony narrowed hazel brown eyes, sheathing his knife as he stepped over the carcass of the undead.

"That's fifteen less undead that we'll have to fight. Or those people will have to fight," he spat venomously, arm flung out in the direction of the gunfire.

"We have plans for a reason, Tony! We can't just charge in, guns blazing every time. You're gonna get yourself killed and bring us down with you," Steve could feel his control breaking and he had to restrain himself from shouting any louder.

Tony looked at him with barely concealed animosity but didn't reply. Steve's eye twitched in irritation as he moved to follow Natasha and Clint whom were rapidly moving in the general direction of the gunshots. As they neared the noise, the number of undead increased and they barely managed to slip in through the doors and close them before the mob of undead began beating at the glass doors.

The lights flickered overhead and Steve was once again reminded he was living an actual horror movie. Their footsteps echoed around the pharmacy, the tall shelves seeming to close in on them. Once again, Steve could hear the loud bang of a gun and he knew that whoever was up there needed help. He heard Natasha's call from across the room, following Clint through the hidden door and up the stairs behind them. Up on the third floor, he found them. Two women and a man, the latter currently pointing a gun at him. There was a pile of bodies on the floor. One of the women was holding up a knife while the other behind her stuffed medicine into a bag.

"We come in peace. We heard the gunshots and wanted to help," Steve said, tucking his gun into its holster showing he had no bad intentions. The blond man watched him for another moment, blue eyes piercing behind rimmed glasses. Finally he put his gun down, hanging his head for a second before turning back to his companions.

"Thank you. Jane, Darcy, you all right?"

The darker haired one of the two rolled her eyes, the blonde one watching us warily, answering out of the corner of her mouth. Behind him, Tony sighed. Natasha, standing at the bottom of the stairs, called up to them, warning them that the glass wouldn't hold. Steve felt something drop in his stomach.

Immediately the sound of guns loading and knives unsheathed filled the air.

"There's another exit in the back but the floor is collapsing. We can't put too much weight on the structure at once or the whole thing will disintegrate. There's a basement down there but that's not someplace you particularly want to go," the blonde girl spoke, head cocked as she loaded her gun.

She brushed past her companions and out the door, going down the stairs quickly as the sounds of breaking glass and groaning filled the air.

"We'll have to go past the undead and through the back room to get to the exit," she gritted her teeth, her hands shaking as she fired her gun. Beside her, Clint let an arrow fly, it whistled through the air before it sunk into the skull of an undead with a wet thunk.

The horde was bigger than Steve expected. Maybe a total of 50. The sound of gunfire filled the air, ensuring to attract more and more undead. The shelves provided some cover but also boxed them in. From the corner of his eye, he could see Tony stabbing away far too slowly as more and more undead arrived.

"MOVE THROUGH THE BACK ROOM NOW," the blond girl shouted above the noise. The back room was a long, narrow corridor. The floor in the middle was crumbling, a giant dark hole threatening to suck them all up. Immediately the darker haired girl slipped through, balancing delicately on the cracking, crumbling floor. The blond man passed next, stopping at the edge to shoot off more while the others slipped through. The undead advanced and Steve found himself surrounded. He shot and shot until his gun clicked and then he began to slash away at undead with the knife he'd hidden at his hip. A few feet from him, Natasha was slicing through undead like wildfire, red hair fanning out. Clint was shooting volley after volley of arrows, the blond man and woman shooting at undead from beyond the gaping hole. The next few minutes happened so fast and Steve still really doesn't know what happened. The floor was beginning to crumble, too much weight on their side with all the undead.

Steve, with the help of Clint and the blonde duo, cleared away the undead around him giving him enough time to reload. Tony was at the edge of the hole with the undead advancing on him.

"TONY USE THE GUN," Steve screamed, eyes flickering over to meet Tony's only for the briefest second before he focused on the next wave of undead.

"| CAN'T!"

"FOR FUCKS SAKE, USE THE FUCKING GUN."

From the corner of his eye, he saw Tony pull the gun Steve had tucked into his pocket when they headed out earlier. His face was white as a sheet and his hands trembled, eyes shutting tightly as he took aim. From his left, Natasha was screaming.

"THE FLOOR IS CRUMBLING. JUMP NOW."

Clint jumped over the gap, the thin walkway already fallen. Natasha jumped and with one last shot, Steve jumped after her.

"TONY JUMP."

The hole was widening as the floor crumbled, soon enough it'd be too big to jump across.

"TONY."

Steve was feeling pretty panicky at this point. Tony shrugged off his bag, throwing it across the gap and then he lunged. He hit the edge, the piece under him immediately beginning to disintegrate under his weight and the impact. Tony tried to scramble up but his feet were dangling in air and the stone under his fingers was falling away. Steve grabbed his hands, pulling. Tony's eyes were wide and blown, his face the epitome of fear and terror. His eyes flickered to the left where his bag lay, the stone underneath falling away down below. Steve pulled him up, adrenaline pumping through his body. Tony landed on top of him and immediately, he rolled off Steve and scrambled to save the suitcase.

"STEVE WE HAVE TO GO."

The whole damn room was coming down, the floor crumbling under undead. Tony grabbed the strap of his bag just as it began to fall and Steve grabbed him and then they were running, the floor crumbling under their feet. He could see Natasha and the others outside the door and suddenly they were out in the sunlight with the sounds of groaning and moaning drifting through the open door.

Everyone was covered in dust, blood, guts and grime and Steve let a hysterical little laugh bubble out of him. Clint had a huge gash across his brow and a limp in his step. Natasha looked fine but there was weariness to her as she propped up Clint. The trio was relatively fine although the darker-haired girl looked shaken, trembling in the arms of the blonde girl. Steve himself had a few bruises and a twinge of pain lanced through his knee every time he put pressure on it. Tony was arguably the worst off with his face and arms all scratched up and a broken rib. They rested there for a bit until the second floor caved in.

Weary and in pain, they made their way back home with the soundtrack of moans and groans fading with every step behind them.

* * *

 **NOTE:** I am back! Wooo I am on fiyaaa. 3 chapters in 24 hours. (Alright technically I had this story already written and saved but semantics). Hope you guys liked it!


	3. Chapter 3

The next three days were a waiting game. They needed to heal and they wanted to wait until the majority of the undead left the area. During this time, Steve finally found out the names of the newcomers and everyone had come to mutual agreement it was best to leave.

The blonde woman was Jane, the darker haired one Darcy and the man Donald. Jane and Darcy were astrophysicists and Donald was a doctor. They were a funny lot especially Darcy who seemed to have no filter for her mouth. Steve thought she'd get along great with Tony.

Speaking of Tony, he hadn't come to dinner and so after dinner, Steve brought up a plate to his room. He knocked on the door and when no answer came, he went inside. Tony was sitting against the bed drinking scotch from a bottle. Steve wasn't sure where he'd gotten that from but something told him it wasn't strange behavior for Tony to drink. He set the food on the bedside table, sliding down next to Tony. He didn't speak at first and Tony seemed to not notice he was there until silently, Tony offered him the bottle. Steve accepted it, the liquid burning down his throat and warmth unfurling inside him. They sat in the dark, silently passing back and forth the bottle, getting progressively drunker.

"Why don't you like guns?"

The words slipped out of Steve's mouth before he could clamp down on them. He was expecting anger yet he was surprised when all he received was a weary tired look. The look made him older, it was as if his whole face had been carved from sorrow and Steve wondered what would have had to happen to a man like Tony to look like that. Tony didn't speak, he just kept looking at Steve as if he weren't quite sure what to do with him.

"What do you know about me, Steve?"

"I know that your company manufactured weapons for the war but not much after that. I was on tour for five years and only back for 2 weeks when this mess started," Steve conveniently left out the part about seeing many of Tony's conquests on the gossip rags.

Tony took a long drink and set it down, brushing the long hair out of his face.

"I was kidnapped in Afghanistan during a weapons demonstration. They wanted me to build them a weapon. Another prisoner. Yinsen," here he shuts his eyes and takes another drink "Yinsen saved my life. He hooked me to a car battery to keep the shrapnel from reaching my heart and eventually he died helping me escape. After that, l stopped manufacturing weapons and l started to look through all the company accounts myself. Someone in the company had been selling weapons to the enemy," there came a dark look in his eye and Steve felt an almost imperceptible shudder run through him. Tony Stark was not a man to be crossed, as harmless as he may seem (and Steve had seen him slice through undead with deadly accuracy which is to to say not so harmless after all). Whatever he may have been then, Tony Stark seemed a much darker person now and Steve cant help think that spending so much time alone, in the wilderness with nothing but undead, made things worse.

"The guns, they remind me of the time in the cave. It's like when they used to dunk me underwater. I couldnt breathe," he fell silent, unconsciously touching the metal suit.

"Did you ever find the mole?"

Steve was intrigued by this man, there was a lot more to him than met the eye. Tony chuckled bitterly, his face twisted up into a sneer.

"Oh yeah, I found him. Obie was about the last person l'd expected to betray me, well besides Pepper, he was like a father to me but I guess l didn't inspire the same warm feelings in him. Did you know he literally ripped out my heart?" Here, he seemed almost surprised to be telling Steve. Steve glanced at the almost empty bottle.

"Paralyzed me and took the arc reactor right out of my chest. He used it to power up the metal suit l'd used getting out of the cave but I'd already built the first lron Man suit by then. We fought, he died. The end."

Steve wasn't sure if Tony was just really drunk or if his life was literally that dramatic. Tony caught his wide-eyed expression and laughed.

"Of course you wouldn't know anything about all that," he said, beginning to unbutton his shirt. Steve, needless to say, panicked.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

Tony looked far too amused.

"Relax Steve, l'm not propositioning you... unless you want me to, of course," he grinned lasciviously and Steve could see why so many women found their way into Tony's bed. He was charming in a way. Not that Steve was interested, nope.

Tony's shirt fell open and Steve could see a glowing blue disc in the middle of his chest. This... this little disc was keeping Tony alive. Steve reached out to touch it, fingers only barely brushing it before he remembered Tony's story and pulled back.

"Can I touch it?"

He looked up to find Tony watching him, an unreadable look in his blue eyes. The whole room was bathed in the blue light of the arc reactor.

"No one's ever really wanted to touch it but sure," he shrugged as if it were no big deal but he remained watching Steve, testing him. Steve touched the reactor lightly, his fingers blocking out the blue light and casting shadows on the walls. Tony's breath hitched. He brushed his fingers against the surrounding skin, the dark lines crisscrossing over his skin.

"Can you feel that?"

Steve looked up to find Tony with his eyes closed as if he were in pain. Snatching back his hand, Steve was reminded of all the soldiers who went home with PTSD, how the slightest things could set off a panic attack. Tony was probably remembering having the arc reactor ripped out. He was beginning to hyperventilate, his eyes wide and scared, darting frantically all over the room. His hands shook as he brought them to his chest, protectively clutching at the arc reactor. Steve knelt in front of him, grabbing the sides of his face gently. Tony fought, pushing weakly at his shoulders, his eyes focused on Steve but not really seeing him.

"Tony. Tony, look at me. It's me, Steve. You're safe. No one is taking the arc reactor," he repeated this until wide blue eyes found him.

"Breathe. In, Out. In, Out," Steve demonstrated with his own breathing and slowly Tony stopped trembling, rattled breathing coming to a slow, steady pace. Steve stayed there, gently stroking his hair, softly repeating "you're safe" until Tony calmed down.

"Do you need anything?"

Tony shook his head but he croaked out "water."

Steve stood up, looking back over his shoulder at Tony, who was staring blankly at the floor. While he was in the kitchen, Natasha wandered in. Perching herself on the counter, she watched as he poured water into a glass. It was beginning to unnerve him and finally he turned to leave when Natasha spoke up.

"Take care of him. He's a lot more delicate than he seems, not that he'd ever admit that."

Steve turned back to respond but Natasha was already gone. When Steve returned, Tony was asleep on the floor, one arm flung out to cradle the suit to him. With his face smoothed out in sleep and his hair hanging down into his eyes, he looked so much younger and Steve felt a surge of protectiveness for this broken man.

He wasn't sure if moving him to the bed would be appropriate so Steve grabbed the pillow from the bed, stuffing it under Tony's head. He draped the blanket over him and left.

* * *

The next morning, over breakfast, they were voting on where to go next as the house wasn't large enough to accommodate everyone. The newcomers wanted to go to DC, see if anyone was working on a cure but Tony had just come from DC and it was a ghost town. Unanimously Clint, Natasha and Tony voted New York and it was Tony's mention of his mansion in the city that convinced everyone else. After breakfast, everyone dispersed to begin to pack, wanting to head out and get as far as they could before nightfall. Steve approached Tony, wanting to ask if he felt better after his panic attack but as soon as the vote was made, Tony disappeared.

By lunch time, they had finished loading everything onto the truck and had headed out. There wasn't much gas in the truck but it would get them closer to the city faster. Steve watched Jane and Donald as they talked quietly, blonde heads bent together. Next to them, Tony was blatantly flirting with Darcy who flirted back. Steve turned away from them, looking at Natasha and Clint sitting up front and seemingly arguing about something. For some reason, Steve felt lonely and not for the first time, he wanted Bucky to be with him. He looked over at Tony again, surprised when he met blue eyes. Tony looked away and back to Darcy who was gesticulating wildly, rapidly explaining something. Jane and Donald, overhearing their conversation, joined in and soon all four were in a heated discussion about something Steve had zero clue about. It seemed to be astrophysics and despite Tony being an engineer, he easily dominated the conversation. It was a few hours later that the truck came to a stop in the middle of the highway. Nightfall was close and they had no shelter. They set up camp in the surrounding trees, wrapping thin wiring around the trunks of the trees to ensure that no undead creeped up on them while they slept. Despite this, Clint called first watch, scrambling up a tree after a meager dinner of peach preserves and stale saltine crackers.

The late September night air was chilly and blankets were sparse. Jane and Darcy share, curling up against each other like little kittens. On Jane's other side, Donald is curled up on his side, lightly snoring. Natasha disappears into the trees to keep Clint company and take second watch, taking the second to last blanket and leaving Tony and Steve to stare awkwardly at each other.

Steve clears his throat, coughing drily, hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck.

"You can have it. I'm okay," he says, fighting to hide the shiver that threatens to run down his spine when a particularly cold wind blows. Tony looks at him, eyebrow raising incredulously.

"Ive never been one for sharing but it doesn't bother me," he says nonchalantly, blue eyes staring at Steve with far too much emotion. Steve shrugs, picking up the thick blue blanket and shaking it out.

They settle on the ground, a mere foot separating them, the blanket stretched over the space between them.

Later when Steve is awoken by Natasha softly shaking his shoulder for third watch, he finds that Tony has shifted closer to him. His hands curls around Steve's shirt and his face is burrowed against Steve's shoulder, hair and blanket blocking out the light. When Steve gently pries Tony's fingers off his shirt, Tony just grumbles and wraps the blanket tighter around him.

Steve settles down for a long shift, back against a tree, watching over his sleeping companions.

* * *

 **NOTE** : Helloooo lovelies! So sorry for the long wait. Finals were this week but thankfully tomorrow is my last day and I only have 3 regents so I can dedicate my time to updating more recently.

I sincerly apologize if I got any aspects of panic attacks wrong. It is not in any way meant to ridicule people who suffer from them. As one commenter on AO3 pointed out, the story is post-Iron Man and pre-Avengers so Tony is still suffering the consequences of the events in Afghanistan and I wanted to show that.

I also wanted to show how his time alone has changed him. I've always loved the idea of Tony fighting without his suit, being able to defend himself and generally being badass. Steve acknowledging it is a salute to the AEMH and Avengers Assemble episodes where Cap shows Tony to rely on himself rather than the suit.

Hope you guys enjoyed it! Until next time.

PS: please excuse my fascination with blue eyed Tony.


	4. Chapter 4

Within a week's time, they'd reached Elizabeth, New Jersey and Clint had fallen ill. A few days back, a few undead had cornered him, Natasha and Steve and in a haste to get away, his ankle had been cut up by some rusty metal shingles. They'd cleaned up the cut as best they could, Donald tending to it but infection had set in. Natasha hadn't moved from his bedside since and Steve could sympathize with what she was probably feeling, after all Clint was her partner and losing him would be like Steve losing Bucky.

When they planned the raid, though, she was the first one to volunteer. Steve, as one of their best fighters, was an obvious choice and although Jane was a great shot, she had to stay and help Donald keep Clint stable. It fell to Steve, Natasha and Tony to raid every pharmacy within a ten mile radius in search for anything that could help Clint.

After three days of raiding pharmacies and finding nothing but a few ibuprofen, 3 boxes worth of bandages and something that looked to be for cramps, they were tired and cranky. Tony was quieter than Steve had ever seen and Natasha was the most unfocused she'd ever been.

It was on the fourth day that they arrived at one pharmacy, finding it locked up tight. It didn't look like it had ever been raided. Tony, ever the patient soul, broke a window and after clearing all the glass away, boosted himself up and through the window.

From outside, they could hear Tony's voice yelling something and immediately, Natasha and Steve jumped into action. When they reached Tony, guns and knives at the ready, he was talking to a man. A man who was pressing a gun into his own temple. Tony was trying to reason with the man, hands raised in a placating manner.

"Why? The whole world's gone to hell and there's not a goddamn thing anyone can do about it," the man yelled, a maniacal look in his eye.

"You're a scientist, right? So you know that every virus has a cure or at least some way to defend against it. I know what it's like to feel you have nothing to live for, that it'd be better to stop fighting but that doesn't mean you don't give up. Giving up means letting them win. Come with me to New York, we could work on the cure together," Tony replied, looking for all the world broken. The other man just looked at him, tears streaming down his face.

"I don't want... I can't... I'm not strong enough," he cried, hand trembling on the trigger.

"You won't be alone. You'll have others to hold you up when you can't do it yourself," Tony's eyes flickered first at Natasha then towards Steve. The man pressed the gun harder into his temple and Steve reached out to stop him but Natasha pulled him back, shaking her head.

Suddenly the man collapsed to his knees, the gun clattering to the floor. No one moved. They granted him a few seconds to collect himself and then Natasha moved towards him. She crouched in front of him, silently watching until he looked up.

"Our friend is injured and the wound is infected. Is there anything here that could help us?" she asked, voice low and urgent.

He looked at her wide-eyed for a second before he nodded, getting up and moving around the room murmuring. Steve moved to Tony's side, watching the man move around the room. It seemed bizarre to think he'd been considering suicide only minutes earlier.

"You did good," Steve intoned softly. Tony glanced up at him.

"Thanks," he replied and they left it at that.

* * *

A few days later, Clint's ankle had healed up with both Donald and Bruce tending to it. Tony had hot-wired a car and they'd siphoned enough gas to get them to New York.

The city wasn't any better off than any other place they'd seen so far. Desolate gray wasteland filled with the undead. Tony's mansion was. .. well a mansion. lt was a huge gated red brick building off Fifth Avenue and Tony wasn't very pleased to see it. The mansion drudged up too many bad memories from his childhood.

They'd only just walked into the house when a red blur attacked Tony. Tony had a second of momentary panic, thinking 'oh god I just came to die in my own home' when he recognized the exact shade of red hair and the perfume.

"Pepper. My Pepper-pot, l thought you'd be at the tower," Tony buried his face into her hair, inhaling the familiar smell of strawberries. He could hear Pepper crying.

"I thought you were dead," she sobbed. Tony pulled back, mock outrage on his face.

"Pepper! Don't say such blasphemous things. You need a little more than a few undead to get rid of me," he smirked, glad when she laughed through the tears. Behind her, he noticed someone else.

"Agent Agent! What are you doing here?" Coulson smiled that same indulgent smile.

"Stark. Nice to see you again. I was speaking with Ms. Pott when the outbreak reached Stark Tower," he explained, sighing when Tony made an indignant noise.

"Such hideousness in my tower. How dare they?" he said, crossing his arms and sticking his nose up in the air.

"Stark Tower? Isn't that the ugly tower... downtown?" Steve asked, trailing off when Tony turned to glare at him. Next to him, Darcy laughed.

"Phil. Where's Director Fury?" Clint and Natasha stepped from the back, moving to Coulson's side. Coulson smiled at them genuinely, clasping Clint's hand and nodding to Tasha.

"The Director has been compromised."

Behind him, Clint and Natasha shared a look and nodded.

"Everyone, welcome everyone to my humble home. You can find your own room, trust me, there's enough. If you need anything, Jarv-" Tony paused, head cocked.

"Hey Jarvis, you awake?" he called out into the air. A few in the group looked at him as if he were on drugs, he ignored them. The air around them remained silent and still. Tony's face fell, Pepper coming forward to rest a hand on his shoulder.

"We couldn't find the backup generators to restart the power," she murmured to him and a strange glint came over Tony's eyes and passed.

The house was huge and Tony felt a bit smug seeing the awe on many faces in the group. Everyone had chosen rooms on the second floor, wanting to stay together. Jane and Donald had taken one together, everyone else picking out their own. Dinner wasn't very fancy, canned soup and some stale crackers. They'd need to go on a raid and stock up on food. All through dinner, Tony felt Steve's eyes on him and he did his best to ignore it. He talked to Pepper and Bruce. The one time Tony had looked over at Steve, he'd been hunched over his soup, looking for all the world like a kicked puppy. He seemed lonely too. Darcy, Donald and Jane were huddled together in one corner of the table. The agents on another and Bruce and Pepper with Tony. Steve had no one and Tony felt a bit guilty.

He'd been avoiding Steve for the last 2 weeks because Tony Stark wasn't one to show weakness. To any one. And Steve...Steve had definitely seen him at a weak point. Tony knew he wouldn't tell anyone, that much he was sure of. Steve wasn't the type to gossip but even so Tony felt the irrational urge to avoid all contact with him. It was what Starks did after all, cut and run.

After dinner, Tony rooted through a closet full of junk until finally he found the board games he'd played as a child. There was a deck of cards, Candyland and Monopoly. Natasha and Clint wanted to play poker so Tony dealt out the cards. Over on the other table, Darcy was losing sorely at Monopoly and trying to distract Jane. Tony, himself, was losing spectacularly.

"This is unfair! You guys are spies, you have the best poker faces in the world and no tells! I object to this unfairness," Tony declared, throwing his cards on the table and pouting. Natasha smirked at him and Clint grinned.

"If you can't stand the heat, get out of hell, Stark," Clint replied.

"Shut up, birdbrain" Tony grumbled, picking up his cards once more. It was a nice atmosphere, everyone warm and happy and safe. Tony had the overwhelming fear that he'd wake up and he'd be alone. After so many months on his own, Tony never wanted to be alone again.

* * *

NOTE: Hello lovely people! I apologize for updating so late. Now I know the group seemed to reach New York pretty quick but from Philadelphia (when Tony first crossed paths with Natasha, Clint and Steve) to NY, it isn't really that far away even if you are on foot much of the time. These four chapters easily spanned a good 2 weeks or so. Just wanted to clarify this.

I hope you guys enjoyed. Until next time.


	5. Chapter 5

All around, the sound of gunfire filled the air. The enemy was closing in on them and Pinky was out for the count, the explosions that rocked the building knocking him into one of the great metal contraptions at the edges of the room. From the corner of his eye, Steve could see the head wound bleeding profusely. From the corridor ahead, enemies ducked in and out of the shadows firing at them. Across the way, Peggy hid behind one of the machines, guns cocked and firing.

Behind him, Steve felt the whoosh of air on his back as Dugan broke the locking mechanism. Overhead, klaxons sounded, red lights blinking off and on.

"THROUGH THE DOORS," Steve shouted. Up ahead he could see the green foliage of the trees and the descending metal door. Dugan and Steve picked Pinky up, dragging him through the hallway, leaving a trail of blood as Izzy and the rest cover for them.

Bucky throws in a gas bomb and the hallway in front of them mists over. The metal door is halfway down when Izzy and the rest come running through. From inside, Steve can hear grunts and moans from where Bucky and Peggy are engaged with the enemy. Steve is pressing against the wound on Pinky's head, trying to stop the bleeding.

"Bucky go!"

"I'm not leaving without you, Peg."

"GO DAMMIT."

Steve gestures for Dugan to take over and the door is shutting, only a quarter of the way open and Bucky is running down the hall and sliding through. Steve feels a tremor run through him as Bucky's arm barely gets through the door. The last Steve sees of Peggy is when she crouches low and knocks one of the Russians off their feet with a sweeping foot. At the same time, she flings her hand out and a little vial comes spiraling down the corridor and slips through the door just as it shuts.

Steve tries not to let the rising panic get the best of him as he picks up the little vial. He orders Izzy, Jones and Manelli to take Pinky back. Dugan, Bucky and the rest follow Steve back into the complex. When they arrive back at the room, all that remains is empty bullet shells, blood and corpses. Peggy is gone.

Steve wakes up in bed, heart pounding and blood pumping in his ears. He can feel the sob building in his throat, a large lump of sorrow and anger. He buries his face into the soft blankets, trying not to think of how he had failed the two people that mattered most in the world.

* * *

Over the next three days, the group settles in, becoming comfortable with each other. Donald, whom Tony has dubbed "Thor" because of the hammer he used on the latest supply run (and later kept), has become a lot more confident (and louder). Natasha, still mainly quiet and observant, jokes around more which Tony finds to be a coming sign of the apocalypse, nevermind the fact it's already here. Its a dry sense of humor but Steve appreciates it if nothing more than it gives him the chance to let loose some of his own dry sarcasm. Jane and Bruce can often be found curled up in a corner together, surrounded by books from the library or talking softly. Darcy is a terror in her own right and between her and Clint, Steve doesn't know which one drives Tony crazier.

Steve is talking to Pepper and Coulson about art, a mug of tea in his hands, when Tony manages to turn the lights back on. He introduces them to Jarvis, explaining that he's an artificial intelligence system that runs the house.

That night, they're gathered around in the living room, trading stories. Pepper is telling a story about one of Tony's less than stellar moments, ignoring the groaning and complaining coming from Tony who insists that "this is an invasion of privacy and I will kick you all out. Ganging up on your host is not polite".

When Steve looks around, it's like looking at a blurry image, full of warmth and color but surreal. That's when the screaming starts from outside.

Steve is the first one to the door, grabbing his gun from where it's tucked underneath his shirt. Natasha and Clint follow, arrow drawn and gun at the ready, with Coulson and Tony on their heels. Beyond the black gates, at the end of the block, a man is screaming as an undead bites into his arm. They see more undead emerging from the shadows, a vision from a horror movie, and soon the whole street is going to be filled with undead. They rush out, shooting at anything that gets close while Coulson and Tony grab a hold of the man and began dragging him back into the house.

Natasha, Clint and Steve cover for them, more and more undead approaching. They reach the gates, swinging them shut behind them and helping Tony and Coulson bring the body into the house. Immediately Donald and Bruce jump to their feet, rushing to get their limited supplies of medicine and Pepper rushes out of the room. They bring him into a small bedroom next to Steve's on the second floor. When they lay him down, waiting for Bruce and Donald, Steve finally gets a close look at the man. He looks different but the long hair and the stubble doesn't disguise the face Steve has known all his life.

"Bucky?"

His voice wavers and cracks and he feels the blood drain from his face. Bucky is alive, the burst of relief he feels is short-lived as he looks down at the bite on his arm.

"No no no. Oh god no."

Natasha pulls him back from the bed as Bruce and Donald rush in. Steve can only hear fragments of what is going on around him, his blood pumping loudly in his ears.

"Morphine... cut off the arm... disease won't spread."

Steve pulls away from Natasha, stumbling blindly out of the room. He feels disconnected with the world, his heart is pounding unnaturally fast and louder than ever. He fears like it will pound itself out of his chest. He doesn't know how he gets there but he finds himself on the roof, brisk air raising goosebumps on his arm.

Hours later, Steve hears the trapdoor to the roof open and a few seconds later, Natasha sits down next to him. Steve looks at her blankly.

"Who is he?" she asks softly.

"Bucky... he's my best friend," Steve doesn't recognize his own voice. He keeps talking, voice painfully devoid of emotion.

"Even when I had nothing, I had Bucky. When my mom died, he was there offering to go live with him. When I was sick as a kid, which was quite frequently, he was there bringing over comics to help cheer me up. When l signed up for the army, he was right there beside me. When Peggy went missing in action (1), he was there. Always there by my side until the end of the line."

Steve fell silent, the cool breeze shifting his blonde hair. Natasha looks at him, eyes bright with understanding.

"He's going to make it," she says, matter-of-factly, face tipped up to the moon. Steve remains silent, hands twisting in his lap. They sit there in the dark, listening to the groaning of the undead below. They don't speak for the rest of the night but her presence is comforting and when she stands up, sometime near dawn, she brushes a hand over his shoulder.

"You should go see him," she says and then she walks away.

* * *

Tony is down in the kitchen at dawn when Steve comes down from the roof. He looks over the rim of his mug as Steve settles down in a chair across from him. The kitchen is silent, save for the steady drip drip of the coffee machine.

"How is he?" he asks tiredly, voice full of grief.

"They had to cut off his arm," Tony replies tentatively as if testing the ground surrounding a minefield. Steve doesn't say anything. Tony watches him carefully for a minute before he turns and pours some coffee into a mug. He sets it in front of Steve who drinks from it, ignoring the fact it's scalding hot. They remain silent for a few minutes and then Steve speaks.

"So who's Pepper? She your wife?" Steve asks and immediately Tony, who'd been drinking from his mug, sputters and coughs. A sort of demented laugh bubbles out of him, ringing out in the silent kitchen.

"Jesus Christ, Steve. Don't say things like that," Tony wipes at his eyes, still chuckling.

"Oh god. I have to tell Pepper that. Anyways no, she's not my wife. I mean we had a thing going a few months before all this started but I was off being Iron Man all the time and she was busy running my company, she couldn't handle the extra stress. Not that I blame her. I'm a bit of a handful," he smiles self-deprecatingly.

"We're just friends now. You could say she's my best friend but Rhodey, my other best friend, would be jealous," Tony smiles fondly and then his face twists. He seems to shake something off, looking over at Steve. They stare at one another for a few seconds before Steve looks away. A comfortable silence falls over the kitchen.

"Do you really think we can find a cure for this?" Steve asks quietly. Tony looks at him, startled.

"Well yeah, every virus has a cure so we just need to find the coagulants in the saliva of the Undead to find out how it is their Saliva affects the victims and reverse it. I mean if the chemicals in their saliva are really shutting down the brain and bringing the change on, we can find some way to jump-start the part of the brain affected by the virus so to speak. Although of course the virus in their system is only one part of the problem becau-" Tony cuts himself off and flushes, mumbling an apology.

They stay there a few more minutes, drinking in silence. Tony stands, dusting off his pants. He's walking out of the kitchen when suddenly he turns back to Steve, a contemplative expression on his face. Clear blue eyes blink at him and a pink tongue slips out to wet his lips.

"You should go see him. It's not fun waking up to strangers after a traumatic experience," Tony says earnestly and then he turns and walks into the shadows of the hall. In the kitchen, Steve blinks and thinks of what Tony said, an echo of what Natasha had said earlier that morning, connecting it to his story of waking up in the cave after his own bomb put shrapnel in his heart. Steve wonders if the shrapnel feels like the pain in his own chest as he stares at the granite counter top.

* * *

NOTE: Hi guysss! So sorry for the long wait, I've been getting stuff together for my college applications and it's just very time-consuming.

So I absolute adore Steve and Nat's relationship so I really wanted to write some of that in here but I don't think I wrote it very well so I apologize. I also wanted to add Bucky because I adore him too and I love his relationship with Steve as well! I know I'm mashing up things from different movies so please bear with me.

(1) Peggy Carter is in no way, manner or form, dead. I was re-watching Agent Carter and frankly I could not think of any plausible way in which Peggy Carter could die in action so I wrote her missing in action and you will see her later on.

Shout-out to AgentFFW for that amazingly sweet comment. Thank you so much and I'm glad you're enjoying the fic. I rarely find zombie AUs in the Avengers fandom and after seeing a post on tumblr, I was motivated to write one so it's nice knowing I'm doing well.

Hope you all enjoyed. Until next time!


	6. Chapter 6

An empty socket stared out at him, red bleeding through the white bandages. On the other side of the bed, its former twin lay on the coverlet. Steve sat in a nearby chair, bloodshot eyes fixated on the man in the bed. Stubble darkened his jawline, his skin a dark tan from spending too much time out in the sun, long hair brushing his shoulders. Despite this, he was still the Bucky Steve had known all his life. He was the one who'd saved a sickly Steve from the bullies on the playground one day in first grade. His family was the one to take him in when his mom passed away and when Steve decided to follow in his father's footsteps and join the army, it was Bucky who helped him set up a training regiment, who stood right beside him to enlist.

Looking at the man in the bed now, pale and clammy, Steve couldn't help but think of the other person he'd failed to save. Peggy. If anyone could survive on their own, it was Peggy yet even so he couldn't help but hope that she was alive out there somewhere with people to watch her back.

The rustling of bedsheets brought Steve back to the present. Bucky's face contorted in pain before relaxing again. Steve didn't know how long he'd been in here but when Clint poked his head in, it was dawn.

Closing the door behind him, he stepped into the hallway where Clint was waiting.

"We're heading out. You coming?"

Part of Steve wanted to stay here for when Bucky woke up but another part of him needed an excuse to unleash all his pent-up stress and what better way to de-stress than beating on the very creatures that had cost his best friend his arm.

"Yeah. I'll go."

Glancing back at Bucky's door, he followed Clint down the hallway. In the kitchen, Tony was sitting on the island patching up the battered leather he'd found in one of the many abandoned rooms in the house, laughing at something. It was actually rather an ingenious idea, if an undead tried to bite you, your arms would be protected by the leather. On the last run, they'd found some more jackets they could use while on runs. Natasha was smiling, shoving her knives into her belt and other hidden places on her body. Steve was still a bit unnerved by how many weapons she could conceal on her body without anyone being none the wiser. On the other side of the island, Pepper and Coulson were quietly speaking. Steve grabbed one of the larger jackets, grabbing one of the guns and opening the cartridge to make sure it was full of ammo. Beside him, Clint was checking his arrows.

"So who's ready to kick some undead butt?" Tony whooped, jumping down from the island.

"Like you're even killing that many, Stark. You just stand there and look pretty," Clint retorted, grinning wolfishly. Tony made a noise of protest.

"I object to that! Not the pretty part cause that's true but I kill undead! It's not my fault you guys live off violence," Tony huffed. Behind him, Pepper rolled her eyes in amusement and Coulson pursed his lips.

"Bet I can kill more than all of you," Natasha piped in, eyes flickering from Steve to Clint to Tony and back.

"It's on. Loser gets first watch!" Clint called. Steve shook his head fondly, knowing there was no way Natasha wasn't going to win. They headed out in a jovial mood, ribbing each other and yelling out their kills every time they came across an undead. Steve was grappling with an undead, his leathered forearm shoved in it's jaw as he fumbled for the knife at his hip. Tony came up behind the creature and shoved his knife into the back of it's skull, blood spattering across his face.

"Hey that's cheati-" Steve began to say when Tony shushed him, eyes set on the sky, sweaty curls dangling in his face.

"Do you hear that?" he said. Behind him, Natasha pulled her knife from the head of an undead and cocked her head. For a moment, Steve couldn't hear anything and then he heard it. A low buzz like a hum. It.. it sounded like a... helicopter.

Clint pointed and there, in between two buildings, was an actual helicopter. They watched dazed as it disappeared behind a building, heading Southwest. Sharing a look with Tony, the group seemed to pick up their movements, wanting to get home as soon as possible. The helicopter had put them all on edge. Sometimes it felt like they were the only ones left and the sudden realization that not only were they not alone but that there were groups with enough resources to power a freaking helicopter was… startling to say the least.

They cleared the store in a matter of minutes and gathered everything they needed then hurried back home.

When they stepped inside, Bruce came out of the living room, eyes wild as they settled on Steve.

"He's awake," he breathed. Steve is scrambling for the door before Bruce is even done speaking. He flings the door open.

"What took you so long, Stevie?"

* * *

Tony's taking first watch, settled on the roof, a gun at his side. He's humming 'Eye of the Tiger" under his breath as he watches the undead mill around aimlessly in the streets below him. The wind cuts through him, making him shiver despite the jacket he has on. He's so bored up here, his hands itching to work with something. Maybe he should have brought something to tinker with. Almost as if he heard his unconscious cry for company, the door opens up behind him and Steve steps through. He settles beside Tony with a plate full of sandwiches and a can of peach preserves.

"How is he?" Tony asks, mouth full of food.

"He's sleeping now. Still in pain from the shoulder but he'll be fine. He'll be wanting to get out of bed soon, he's stubborn like that," Steve explains, face tilted up to the moonlight.

Tony hums in acknowledgement, looking at Steve's profile lit in moonlight. There's dark smudges under his eyes yet despite this, he's so painfully attractive. Pale skin bathed in the silver glow of the moon, deep blue eyes fringed by long lashes, a strong jawline and high cheekbones and soft-looking lips. Tony looks away, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

"Do you think there's safe places out there?" Steve asks, looking up at the stars and Tony knows he's thinking about the helicopter.

"Yeah I do," Tony answers. Down below, something stirs the undead into a frenzy. Grabbing his gun, Tony looks through the scope but there's nothing out of ordinary. He shrugs it off thinking maybe the wind carried their scents but the wind is blowing in the opposite direction. Warning bells go off in Tony's head.

"Are all the lights down there off?" Tony asks, scoping the area out again. He looks up at Steve just for a second and he sees it. A bright little red dot just on his chest. Tony dives sideways, knocking Steve down just as the bullet comes whizzing past their heads. Down below, the undead are moaning and groaning, calling to the others. Peaking over the side, he sees the dark figure that opens the gate and the light of the foyer spilling out onto the grass. Beside him, Steve points out the figure on the roof of a nearby building.

"You shoot. I need to wake up the others," Tony thrusts the gun into Steve's hands and makes a run for the door, bullets spraying as they hit the floor under him. A searing pain in his left bicep blooms, skewing him sideways but then he's flinging the door open. Flinging himself down the stairs, he starts pounding on the room doors. The groaning and moaning of the undead below and the sounds of gunshots above causing enough of a racket to wake some of others up before Tony even pounds on their door. Natasha pokes her head out her door and only nods when Tony looks at her. When the group has congregated before him, he turns to Pepper who looks thin and pale.

"Pepper, get them to the lab and open the garage door. Clear the path down."

He says the last thing to the spies. Behind them, Bruce and Donald are holding Bucky up between them, Darcy and Jane bringing up the rear.

"Wait, where are you going?!" Pepper shouts.

"Steve" he yells, bounding up the stairs. Behind him, the sounds of guns going off starts and the moans double. He flings open the door.

"STEVE, WE HAVE TO GO."

"If I don't take this guy down, we can't escape."

He fires off another round and this one seems to hit the guy. The figure disappears. Tony sets off down the stairs with Steve in tow. When they reach the staircase, the undead are blocking the foyer, a shoving mass of rotting fodder. The ones closest to the stairs turn their head and begin to reach for them. Tony turns, running into Steve. He moves toward the library, barricading the doors behind them and throwing books off the shelves. He pulls on "A Thousand Nights" and part of the bookcase swings open. Grabbing Steve's hand, he pulls them down the dark staircase, the trapdoor behind them swinging shut. The door at the bottom swings open into the lab and they stumble in to find themselves at the end of Natasha's gun.

"I'm sure there was a clause in the contract you signed that said you couldn't kill me," Tony says, hands in the air. She puts the gun down and moves aside so he can open the garage door. And then he sees Coulson. He's propped up against the door, gun in his hand, blood drenching his shirt and dribbling down from the corner of his mouth. He's barely lucid, eyes struggling to stay open. Tony looks away, something clawing at his chest. He opens the garage door, trying to ignore Pepper's cries and the way Natasha and Clint seem to curl in on themselves. Tony fiddles with the panel hidden under his painting of Iron Man. There's no way he's letting any of his inventions fall into the wrong hands. He sets the timer and runs out behind the group.

They come out on the other side of the house and knife the small cluster of undead shuffling to join the party. They're almost into the alley when the shooting from above starts. Behind him, Steve curses and turns to hand the gun to Tasha who aims and shoots. They all see the way the man falls over the edge. Tony thinks of the helicopter and the skulking figures and thinks that if there are other groups out there, maybe the undead aren't the only things they should be wary.

A few streets away, they feel the tremor through the ground, hear the explosion, see the ground before them light up with color. Pepper looks at Tony, green eyes brimming with tears, and threads her fingers through his. He shuts his eyes briefly and when he opens them again, it's to find blue eyes looking at him.

* * *

NOTE: Ooh wonder who those mysterious shadows were. I wanted to really get the group back on the road and give this story more of an apocalyptic feel and we can't have that if they're holed up nice and warm at the Stark mansion. So sorry for the wait. I hope you guys enjoyed. Until next time.


	7. Chapter 7

Steve lined up his shot, eyes fixated on the deer across the meadow. He sucked in a breath and squeezed the trigger lightly just as a hand fell on his shoulder. The bullet went wide, rustling the leaves on the trees and alerting the deer to his presence. He stood and turned, finding a sheepish Clint. Steve shoved him gently and Clint laughed, rubbing a hand through his hair.

"Sorry Cap," he grimaced. Steve opened his mouth to respond when Thor's voice boomed through the meadow as he stepped into view, the deer slung across his shoulders.

"Getting sleepy there, Rogers?" he asked, mouth twitching up into a smug smirk. Steve scowls.

"It was Clint's fault," Steve grumbled, beginning the trek back to base. When they arrived, Pepper and Darcy were sorting out the packs. Tony and Natasha were running circles around the trees with the wiring and Jane was helping Bruce re-apply Bucky's bandages. Bucky himself was dead to the world, letting out occasional little snores and murmurs.

"We bring dinner. A la gourmet," Clint announced, plopping down onto the hallowed ground surrounding the pine tree.

"You didn't do anything, Clint. If it weren't for Thor, it would have gotten away," Steve responded. From the corner of his eye, he saw Clint shrug.

"Tony, have you gotten any signal on the radio?"

Steve sat down by Thor and together they began to strip the fur coat off the deer. Steve still found it revolting and he'd seen a lot worse than blood and bone in his time. His eyes kept flickering to the glassy wide brown eyes and an involuntary shudder ran through him.

"Not yet. I'll try again at dinner," Tony piped up from across the clearing.

"You really think any survivors out there are gonna be advertising their locations? Knowing there's assholes like the ones that attacked us?" Nat asked, voice low but loud enough for Steve to hear. A kind of hush fell across the camp.

No one really wanted to discuss the events that happened at the mansion. It was a realization that instilled fear in them because for once, it wasn't only the dead they had to worry about but the living as well. Steve didn't know why he found this so surprising. He, better than any, knew that some of the worst monsters out there wore the faces of regular men and women.

"There's still good people out there, Nat... there has to be," he said after a moment of silence. No one said anything in return.

They ended up chopping up the deer into little pieces and making a stew. Bruce had lived in a lot of impoverished countries over the years, making the best of what he had and he knew his herbs and whatnot. It was pretty good all things considered and the warmth of it felt heavenly. They sat around the fire, hands wrapped around mismatched bowls, the only sounds heard was the crackling of the flames, the slurping noises Clint kept making and the groaning of the undead that had walked into their wiring and now lay in pieces.

All of a sudden, the sound of voices crackled into existence. Tony let out a cry of triumph before bending over the fiddles to turn up the volume. Food forgotten, everyone huddled around Tony and the radio, listening intently to the message on repeat.

" - to all...Osias...sanctuary... Iowa."

The signal is spotty, the voice crackling in and out but the few words that float through are enough to give Steve hope. The message repeats a few times and then the radio falls silent. No one speaks and then-

"We're going to Iowa? Seriously? Haven't we been through enough?"

Bucky's voice rings through the clearing and Steve looks over his shoulder at him. He's propped up against the trunk of the tree, looking morbidly amused.

"Bucky."

"Well he's not wrong about that. It's literally nothing but cornfields. That's the place where crop circles were discovered," Clint muses. Beside him, Tony snorts and Pepper looks at him disapprovingly.

Everyone seems to be lost in their own thoughts. They finish dinner silently and spread out in the clearing.

"Stevie... You really think heading for this place is the best idea? What if it's a pre-recorded message and we're just walking into an infestation? Or what if it's an ambush?" Bucky says, voice low as he turns to face Steve.

"You think I haven't thought of that? These people deserve somewhere they can be safe. We have to try, Buck," Steve murmurs, watching the stars above.

"This isn't the world we know anymore. We don't have any guarantees of safety," his voice coming out wistful and bitter. Steve hears the rustle of the sleeping bag as Bucky gets up and heads out into the darkness to keep Clint company.

Steve turns on his side. He watches Tony and Pepper talk, the fire flickering across their faces, hands held in each other's grasps. He shuts his eyes and thinks of Peg.

* * *

After three days of trekking through woods, they come across a farm in what Tony thinks is Scranton, Pennsylvania. There's no animals around but there's a water pump, a barn that looks good for keeping watch and a fence surrounding the property that could be reinforced. The group is tired and dirty and it's almost enough to cry when Jane finds that the shower still works.

They take turns in the shower, warming up buckets of water to keep the chill of the impending winter away.

Tony heads outside to breathe some fresh air, ignoring the racket coming from the open kitchen window where Clint, Natasha and Bucky have found their way into the liquor they found in the basement.

He leans against the rotting wooden fence, trying to stave off the creeping darkness inside. He should be happy. They found Pepper, there's hope for sanctuary, they haven't lost too many people yet even so... He doesn't. Instead he feels empty. He would think this was a side-effect of the arc reactor but this, it's always been there at the edge of his mind. It's the beast that came out to play when he drank, when he thought about Yinsen and Afghanistan, when he thought of Obie and Howard and his mom, when he thought of the blood on his hands.

The sound of laughter drifts over the field and he shuts his eyes. He's never had this, a family. Because that's what these people are to him now. Family. And he's scared that he's gonna screw up and they'll hate him. Or that he'll end up getting them killed and he'll be left all alone again. He doesn't want to be alone anymore. He's spent his entire life being alone, only having people like Jarvis and Rhodey and Pepper that stayed.

He feels hands on his back, warm through his t-shirt and he thinks _Pepper._

 _"_ I thought I was better, Pep," he says, voice choked up with unshed tears and the loss of breath that came from the lump in his throat. He feels fingers card through his hair and then he's being pulled back into someone's chest. A chest too broad, too flat chested and far too high to be Pepper. Tony feels himself go rigid.

"It does get better," Steve says, warm breath washing over Tony's ear. Tony struggles to push the feelings away and then crumples against Steve, keeping his face turned away.

"How do you know?"

"I just know."

Tony doesn't question the cryptic answer. It helps not being alone.

* * *

They're heading back from the small town near the farm after a successful scavenging when they nearly walk right into the horde of undead.

Clint curses as they dive for cover. Tony finds himself pressed up against Steve in the hollow of a tree, watching as the horde passes by. He can barely see Natasha and Clint in the bushes in front of them. When the horde thins to a trickle, Tony heaves a quiet sigh and that's when he notices. He's pressed up against Steve, chest to chest, and okay, objectively speaking, he's always known that Steve is fairly attractive and well-built but being surrounded by all that glorious muscle, it's a bit of a mind loop.

Tony peaks a glance at up at Steve's face through the fringe of his lashes (god he hates being short). Steve is watching the stragglers as they stumble through the woods behind the horde. At this angle, he sees the way the light hits his jawline and lights up his eyes. It's unfair really. Steve looks down at him at that moment, mouth opening to speak when he catches Tony's eyes and blinks. He seems dazed for a moment before shaking his head.

"They're heading in the direction of the farm," he says and the sentence doesn't really register with Tony for a few seconds and then it does. Tony thinks the last time he felt this fearful is watching that bomb stamped with his name count down, the one that put the shrapnel in his heart.

"Fuck. We're going to have to go around the horde and we need to hurry if we're going to get there before them."

Tony feels like running each and every one of those undead freaks through with a sword but they have to warn the others, warn Pepper.

They set off towards the farm, running a wide path around the horde. It's nearing dusk when they arrive and Tony can see the lights on in the house and fuck that's gonna be a goddamn beacon in the middle of the night. When they arrive, everyone is in the kitchen. Steve and Nat immediately branch out into the house, turning off all the lights.

"There's a horde coming our way," Clint says without preamble.

Everyone stands immediately alert.

"Shouldn't we be packing up and leaving then?!" Darcy whispers loudly, throwing a look over her shoulder at the kitchen window. Beyond the glass, everything is unmoving and then something shifts in the tree line. One emerges, two more, ten and more. It's like a horror movie come to life.

Steve appears in the doorway.

"Grab your packs and anything we may need. We can use the cover of darkness, go out through the back door. The fence will hold them but not for long especially if they find out we're here."

Everyone shifts into gear, moving quietly and urgently, picking up canned foods, blankets and other necessities. They all make their way out through the backdoor, Tony being one of the last ones in the house as he checks the progress of the undead. They mill around the fence, not aggressively trying to get past it which means they're unaware of the group's presence. Or at least they are before Darcy alerts them to it. The loud yelp of pain reverberates through the air for a moment and then the air is filled with groaning and moaning as the horde throws itself at the fence.

When Tony steps through the door, Darcy's foot is swelling and limp in Jane's hands and there's a hole in the wood of the steps.

"They know we're here. That fence won't hold them."

Thor hands his pack off to Bruce and swings Darcy up into his arms and then they're off into the woods just as the undead break through the fence.

"Shit shit shit," Tony thinks as they run through the foliage, blood pumping loudly in his ears. They come across a few undead, the outer protective ring branching off to deal with them if they get too close. It was actually Bucky's idea to have a formation where the "non-fighters" (in this day and age, everyone knew how to protect themselves and fight) would be most protected. That left the group's fighters -Nat, Clint, Steve, Thor, Tony and Jane- to form a protective ring around the others and ward off the undead. Bucky had whined about not being on the outer ring until Natasha snapped at him if he knew how to shoot left-handed which admittedly Bucky did not. That had been the end of the discussion.

They run until they hit the next town over and hunker down in one of the buildings, Steve and Clint taking up posts to watch for the horde. Darcy's ankle is the size of a grapefruit by now but thankfully there's no broken bones. They stay there all night, jumping at every creak and groan, everyone too jumpy for sleep. It isn't until dawn when a tired Clint and Steve come stumbling back that they know they're safe.

* * *

NOTE: Hellooo. So sorry for the wait. Been a bit busy starting my college apps and doing summer assignments. This chapter was inspired by both the Walking Dead and Age of Ultron. Hope you all enjoyed.

PS. I will be going on vacation in two weeks so I'll try to update before then but if I can't, I apologize beforehand.


	8. Chapter 8

For Steve, they came in the dead of night. He's laying in bed, eyes fixated on the ceiling illuminated by the streetlights from outside. The house is silent, Bucky is out and Steve can feel his body unwinding and melting into the mattress. Even on R&R, a soldier never rests. Bucky and him have a strict training regiment for whenever they're on leave to keep in shape. They usually meet up with the rest of the squad to train together but sometimes it's just him and Bucky, like it's always been.

Down the street, he hears laughter and a shrill scream. Thinking nothing of it, he dismisses it and tries to will himself to sleep, trying to keep bad memories at bay. Memories of war, of bodies left dying on the streets, of children abandoned, of comrades fallen. The voices outside rise in volume and someone is shouting but when Steve raises himself to the window to look out, all he sees is someone standing over a bent figure kneeling on the floor. Probably just some drunk teens trying to get home. Flopping back down onto the mattress, Steve punches his pillow and turns on his side. He isn't aware of when he drifts off but when he wakes, it's to someone shaking him by the shoulders.

A blurry Bucky shifts into view and he's saying something but it's as if a grenade has gone off near Steve. He cant hear anything and all he sees is the way Bucky's mouth shapes around the words as if in slow motion.

"-eve, something is wrong. Get up," Bucky shouts loud and clear.

Steve can hear screaming and shouting from outside and gunshots and he doesn't understand what's happening. Bucky disappears into the closet, coming out with the duffel bag Steve keeps his weapons in. When he looks out the window, there is a man at the end of the street shooting people and a woman clinging to his arm, shouting. There's a little girl kneeling over a body on the floor, her little frog pajamas bloodied. Front doors wide open, cars running over limping people. Behind him, he can hear Bucky pumping a shotgun. On the horizon, the sky lightens slowly. Dawn is coming, with it a new day and a new era.

* * *

Steve wakes to an all-encompassing warmth. Outside the barn's wooden slats, the wind howls and the rain continues to pour. When he releases a breath, a visible cloud appears before him and he shivers. They've been on the move for weeks now, the weather growing colder and colder with every day that passes by. They're barely halfway to Iowa, holed up in a barn in Indiana.

Through bleary eyes, he sees Jane and Thor in deep conversation on watch by the doors. The rest of the group has coalesced into a giant human puppy pile to keep warm. Nat is curled up against Clint with Pepper and Darcy curled around each other on Clint's other side. Bucky is snoring away against Nat's back and on his other side is Steve. On Steve's other side, against Pepper, is Tony.

It's a bit endearing honestly to see these people, people that are very capable of dismemberment and all other slightly scary and awe-inspiring things (like Nat's extremely accurate knife throwing and Clint's equally accurate skill with a bow and arrow) all snuggled up with each other. As much as Clint likes to joke he'd throw them all to the wolves at a first moment's notice, Steve knows that their little group has become a family, so to speak. Looking around, Steve feels a warm sense of fondness surge through him. He can't remember the last time he felt so at peace and it's sad truthfully. It's sad because the world has gone to hell in a handbasket but there's still this, there is still family and friendship and love. All it took was the apocalypse for Steve to find it again.

At his side, Tony turns, letting out the smallest of sniffles. His hand finds Steve's sweater and curls into a fist, clutching the fabric loosely. Turning to look at him, Steve is struck by how still he is. For as long as he's known Tony, still has never been a word Steve would use to describe him. He's always in motion, hands flapping about while he babbles on about god knows what or flitting from person to person in the group as they walk. Now the only signs of movement is the flutter of long dark lashes and the rise and fall of his chest. It's strange.

Steve traces the hills and valleys of Tony's face with his eyes. In sleep, his face smoothes but Steve can still see the little laugh lines at the corner of Tony's eyes. He can see the rough dark stubble on his jaw and the way his hair, greasy after so long without a wash, falls limply onto his face in spikes. It makes him look younger and handsome in a rugged sort of a way (even though Steve would never admit it).

"You're staring and it's creepy," Tony mumbles softly, bleary eyes opening. Dark brown eyes bore into Steve's and Steve feels the hand on his chest fall away. Keeping his eyes locked on Tony's, Steve reaches out into the space between them, chasing Tony's fingers, his fingertips barely brushing against Tony's. He hears the hitch in Tony's breath and the strange energy returns. The one that makes his palms sweat and makes the air crackle with electricity. It's the one that makes him light-headed and has him watching Tony when he thinks nobody is watching. He pushes his hand closer and -

"Steve. There's someone outside."

Repressing the sigh Steve feels building in him, he gets up and walks to where Jane and Thor are looking out of one of the dirty windows of the barn, ignoring the burning stare he feels on his back. When he's joined them, Jane points to a spot in the shadow of the trees where Steve can barely make out the dark figure shifting in and out of view. He feels a warmth at his back and a glance back reveals Tony offering Steve his knife. Grabbing the knife, he turns back, watching as the figure steps into the light, three undead stumbling out after him.

There's something familiar about the build of the stranger, obviously a man; about the way he moves and fights. The man is fighting off one of them when he stumbles over an uprooted shovel handle. Snapping into action, Steve flings open the barn doors, rushing out to the help the man. Pulling his knife out of it's sheath, Steve sidesteps the groaning undead and swings back around, knife burying itself to the hilt in the cracked and oozing skull. Wrenching his knife back, he turns to skewer the other undead but instead finds the undead... well, dead. The man is covered in black and dark red congealed blood which smells god awful. For a second, it's Tony he sees before him. The first time he met him, face bloody and scratched up, buried under undead corpses.

Steve helps the man to his feet and is examining the corpses of the undead at his feet when the man speaks.

"Steve?"

Head whipping up, Steve finds himself looking at a very familiar face. Even through all the blood and gunk on his face, Steve can recognize the man.

"Sam Wilson."

* * *

They gather around the newcomer like a pack of wolves moving in for the kill. It's unnerving enough for Tony who's actually part of the group, he can't imagine what the newcomer must be feeling. Then again, Steve said the man served in the army with him so maybe not. The man begins to speak.

"I don't know who you guys pissed off but you have a tail. Someone is following your group."

Almost immediately, the barn fills with protests and murmuring. Across from Tony, Bucky glares at the man, one hand on the gun at his hip, stance unwaveringly aggressive.

"How do we know you're not working with them? That this isn't some attempt to infiltrate our group, gain our trust. Mighty convenient you know Steve," Bucky spat venomously.

"Bucky," Steve admonishes.

"Steve, he's right. This is a whole new world; our past, who we were, doesn't mean anything now," Nat replied, eyes piercing Sam with a calculating look.

"Look. Trust me. Don't trust me. You know that I'm right. You've come across these people," Sam looks around the group, eyes coming to rest on Steve who holds his gaze.

Tony looks around, watching as the others exchanged silent looks that spoke bounds. Just then, the windows to the barn shatter and little cylinders come flying in. Tony was a weapons manufacturer, he knows military grade smoke bombs and flash grenades when he sees them.

He sees some of the others dive for cover but the others, like Steve, Nat, Sam, Clint and Bucky, they cover their ears and shut their eyes. Tony follows suit, crouching down behind a hay bale.

Somehow, over the din of the noise, he hears the shout.

"GIVE US TONY STARK."

Tony can almost feel the way the group's eyes shift to him. Or would, if they could open their eyes. He thinks 'I fucked up. Again'. He doesn't know why these people are in interested in him but they are. And he led them to the group. He thinks of that night on the roof, the bright red laser pointed at Steve's chest. The mansion and all the suits, gone. Coulson, dead. Because of him. He opens his eyes and through the smoke, he sees Pepper, blinking blue eyes at him. He hears Darcy screaming bloody murder and then he sees Steve mouthing one word over and over.

NO.

Because despite what Steve said in those first few weeks, that Tony was selfish and never considered others, he did. Tony Stark was egotistical and arrogant and he fucked up a lot but he was never heartless. If anything, he felt too much. Steve knows that now, he knows what Tony plans to do. It's then that he remembers the vow he made when he donned the Iron Man suit. To protect those who can't protect themselves. To fight the good fight, for justice. Make the world a better place.

Tony doesn't have the Iron Man suit -well he does. It's still in his bag, arm's length away behind the hay bale but he can't use it- but that doesn't mean he can't protect people anymore. Tony Stark IS Iron Man. The suit and him are one. So if he can't protect Pepper and Steve and Natasha and all the rest as Iron Man, he'll protect them as Tony.

In the midst of the smoke, Tony stands and makes his way to the doors. He can hear Steve and Bruce shouting at him and Pepper crying but he keeps walking. He stops at the threshold, blinking at the half circle of armed men and women. There shouldn't be anything linking them, they're all too different but there is. The bright red insignia stares back at him, a skull with outreaching tentacles. HYDRA.

A terrorist organization that prior to the outbreak was gaining support worldwide. Tony thinks about Afghanistan for a moment and he thinks 'I can't do it. Not again.' But then he hears Pepper shout and he knows he does. He must.

How funny that people should fear the darkness because of the unknown when really what is known in the light is just as terrible.

Breathing deeply, Tony steps into the light.

That's when everything goes to hell.

* * *

NOTE: YAYYYY Sam Wilson! He's such a cutie. Sorry for the long wait. Hope you enjoyed.


	9. Chapter 9

The world around Steve is a cacophony of gunshots, yelling and groaning. It almost feels like being back in the field, Steve thinks as he aims his gun over the boxes he's hiding behind. He shoots and across the field, a Hydra soldier goes down screaming. The only difference now is that they're fighting two enemies. He watches as the undead stumble out of the forest, hands outstretched to the Hydra soldiers. One undead manages to latch onto a Hydra soldier, teeth ripping apart the skin on his neck as if it was paper, blood staining the wet grass red. Steve feels his stomach turn but he can't help but think ' _better them than us_ '.

In the sudden barrage of flying bullets, Steve sees Tony hit the ground somewhere in between the two groups, clutching at his chest. Underneath his hand, red blooms across the fabric of his sweater. _Damn it._

Steve grits his teeth and scurries from behind his position to the next set of boxes. He signals Clint, Nat and Sam to follow his lead and signals Bucky and Jane to head to the back of the barn. Bucky nods and together, Jane and him lead the others to the back.

From the corner of his eye, Steve sees the moment Sam pulls it out. He pulls the pin and throws it overhead, towards the Hydra soldiers. The moment the grenade explodes, Steve is moving and heading for Tony, who's wheezing and barely lucid. Not wasting a moment, Steve holsters his gun, picks Tony up in his arms and heads towards the back of the barn, the others covering his back, where Bucky and Jane have made a hole in the wall.

He waves Clint and Bucky ahead, setting Tony down against the boxes hiding them from sight and ripping up the last clean shirt he had in his pack. Steve has seen these kinds of wounds before in the field and they need to be sealed immediately before the lungs collapse. He's finishing up when he hears a gunshot.

When he looks out, Clint has already shot the Hydra soldier, the arrow sticking out of his throat as the man chokes on his own blood. Pepper is standing in the middle of the clearing, hands shaking as she looks down at Bruce. Bruce's middle is drenched with blood and when Steve nears, Tony in his arms, his teeth are stained with blood.

"Why… why did you do that?! Bruce! Damn you," Pepper shrills, kneeling down next to him, hands fretfully pulling up fistfuls of grass.

"Ton- Tony saved… my life… Only fair-" he spits up blood and his breath seems to rattle in his throat, "I saved… the life of… someone he loves."

Pepper is sobbing now, words mangled by the choked-up cries.

Bruce smiles a blood-red smile, blood-stained hand reaching for Pepper's. He looks at Steve, or rather at Tony in Steve's arms.

"Save him… and tell him- tell him thank you, " he coughs up another bout of blood and his eyes seem to waver, leaving Tony and staring up into the sky where the sun is coming out from behind the clouds.

His last breath is a sigh of relief.

Pepper lets out a strangled cry as Natasha reaches down and turns his head to the side, sliding her knife into the back of his skull.

"Sleep, хорошо целитель (1)," she whispered, fingers brushing over the lids of his eyes as they shut for the last time.

From the other side of the barn, the shooting starts up again and the redoubled groans of the undead could be heard over the din of the noise.

"Let's go," Steve ordered, voice strained, eyes fixed on Bruce's body. It didn't feel right to leave him here even if there was no way he'd turn.

"Thor, take him. We bury our people."

Thor gathered Bruce's body in his arms and began the march into the woods, following Sam and Clint. Darcy helped Pepper stand, steering her down the path after Thor and the others. Jane took Steve's gun from his holster and took up the back with Nat and Bucky. Steve couldn't help think this seemed exactly like a funeral profession. _But for one or two?,_ he thought as he looked down at Tony.

* * *

It's nightfall by the time the group deigns they're far enough from Hydra to set up camp for the night.

While the others eat, or gaze into the fire numbly like Pepper, who hasn't spoken to anyone all day, only periodically coming up to Steve to make sure Tony is still breathing and wandering off again with Darcy at her side, Steve sits in the tent with Donald as he checks over the chest wound.

"Well, judging by the way he's still breathing, I'm guessing no ribs have been fractured or been broken. The bullet doesn't have seemed to pierced or bruised the lungs but it can still happen. There's no exit wound which means we'll need to take the bullet out of him before it pierces the lungs or disrupts the bloodstream," Donald murmured, more to himself than to Steve, fingers prodding the surroundings of the wound.

"Won't he need anesthesia for that? " Steve asked.

Donald looked him, blue eyes full of mirth.

"Lots of people went through surgery long before anesthesia was used. We're gonna need a hospital though," he explained.

"They'll already have been raided for drugs," Steve countered, eyes looking back to where Tony was murmuring in his sleep, dark hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. Donald smiled.

"Who said we're going for drugs?"

* * *

The next day, they bury Bruce.

They bury him under a willow tree, the leaves brushing against the newly turned earth as if gently greeting Bruce. They mark it with a pile of rocks and stand there, in silence, remembering Bruce as the gentle soul he was.

As they begin to leave, Steve nears the rock marker.

He grasps the top most rock, the cold surface a dozen little needles on his palm.

"Maybe in another life, we shall meet again…"

Steve patted the rock, smiling slightly when the wind picked up. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he whispered 'goodbye' and he walked away.

They set out to the nearest hospital which turned out to be Franciscan St. Margaret Health, close to the border of Illinois.

Surprisingly enough, the hospital didn't seem to be too infested with undead but that was probably because someone had rounded them all and locked them in the cafeteria. Steve had heard them, all groaning and moaning, some throwing themselves at the door as they caught a whiff of living flesh.

They situated themselves on the second floor, at equal distance from each staircase, after having scoured the first floor to make sure any entrances were shut. If any undead somehow got in, they could easily access either staircase. Sam, Clint, Nat and Bucky took up guard positions, two on each staircase while Pepper and Darcy situated themselves in the room across from Tony's. Darcy seemed to be the only person that got through to Pepper, she wouldn't respond to anyone else. Steve really didn't know how she'd managed that.

Donald was explaining the procedure he would be performing on Tony when Jane came in, carrying a tray with a huge metallic tweezer type thing, a scalpel, plastic gloves, some clear liquid, probably disinfectant and empty blood bags.

"The blood bags weren't viable anymore. We're gonna need a transfer," she murmured to Donald. Donald looked at Steve over his shoulder, eyes running up and down the length of his body. Steve squirmed under the attention.

"What's your blood type?"

"O+." (2)

"Perfect. Whatever blood type he is, is compatible with yours," Donald clapped his hands, seemingly complacent. Steve frowned at his back.

"I never said I was willing to give blood," Steve pointed out. Donald turned back to him, blinked at him as if surprised.

"So you're gonna let him die?"

"Of course not. I'll give him my blood but that doesn't mean you can just make that decision for me," Steve snapped, walking over to where Jane was looking at him curiously.

"Someone woke on the wrong side of the forest. What's wrong?" she asked, swabbing his inner elbow with an alcohol prep pad.

Steve didn't like losing people and every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Bruce staring up at the sky with glazed brown eyes and blood running down his chin and staining his clothes. He could see the guilt that ate at Pepper every time he looked at her and he could only imagine how Tony would react when he found out Bruce had done it in return for having saved his life back at the pharmacy.

"Nothing," he murmured in response. She hummed at him, disbelievingly.

After they took about 2 pints from Steve, who was feeling a bit light-headed by that point, they prepared for the slice and dice part of the operation.

"He really should be under anesthesia… if he wakes up while you guys are anywhere near the arc reactor, he's gonna freak out," Steve was slurring his words at this point and god, he hoped he never had to give that much blood ever again.

Jane and Donald exchanged a look and seemed to come to the unanimous decision that it was best to get it over with as quickly as possible. They hooked Tony up to the IV bag filled with Steve's blood and cut a line down where the bullet had entered. Without all the blood, the wound looked a lot cleaner and it clearly wasn't infected so they'd lucked out there.

Steve doesn't really understand all the medical terms they discussed during the surgery, things like pulmonary contusion and parenchymal injuries, but what he does know is that they managed to get the bullet out.

They were just starting to stitch up the wound when it happened.

"Donald… he's not breathing."

"Shit."

Donald immediately started chest compressions, alternating between that and CPR. Steve stood up, coming to stand next to Jane who was keeping time on her watch. He grabbed a hold of Tony's hand, bringing it to his lips.

"C'mon c'mon, don't you dare die. Pepper needs you," Steve whispered against his hand. He watched Donald breathe into Tony's mouth, saw Jane mouthing numbers from the corner of his eye.

"Damn it, Stark. Come on, we need you, you stupid genius…"

In his hands, a finger twitched. Steve brushed Tony's hair back, pressing a kiss to his hand.

"I need you…" he said it so softly, he wasn't sure he even said it.

That day Tony Stark was born again.

For the third and final time.

* * *

NOTE: I am soooo sorry for the month long wait. I had to meet some scholarship deadlines so I was rushing around doing that and settling into the new school year but I'm back!

(1)- "хорошо целитель" should translate to "good healer".

(2)- So I got this from Steve's dog tags in the CA movie. According to Iron Man #243, Tony's blood type is A+.

I hope you guys enjoyed and hopefully I will be able to update soon!


	10. Chapter 10

Waking up feels like slogging through sluggish waters, consciousness the bright light shining down through the depths. Tony wakes to an empty room, lids heavy with sleep. His body feels like a giant bruise, a dull pain radiating from the side of his body and an unbearable itch on his wrist. When he looks down, there's an IV needle stuck in the soft underside of his wrist, hooked up to a blood bag.

Tony struggles to raise himself on his elbows, startled when the door opens and in steps Jane. She blinks at him, a glass of water in her hand.

"You're awake," she says as if confirming the fact that he is, indeed, awake. She crosses the room, setting the glass on the table and helping him into a sitting position before handing him the glass.

"Where are we? What happened with the Hydra agents?" Tony rasps out, his voice scratchy with disuse. He looks down at the water suspiciously. Bringing it to his lips, he gulps it down like a man that has traveled the desert for days. Funny enough, he actually knows the feeling.

"We escaped. We're in a hospital on the border of Illinois," Jane responds, her voice too casual. She busies herself with the bloody tools lying on a tray nearby, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Tony glances down at himself, his chest bare, the arc reactor a glowing blue beacon in the center. There's a bandage on his chest, to the right of the arc reactor where Tony feels the sore dullness. He remembers going down, the searing pain, the last thing he saw being Hydra agents surrounding the barn.

"Is everyone okay?"

Jane doesn't answer and Tony scrambles to sit up straight, his heart beating an erratic tattoo against his chest. Fear grips him, an icy claw around his heart.

"Who… who is it? Is it- is it Pepper?" he asks, voice breaking and part of him dreads the answer. _Please… Don't let it be Pepper. Oh god please._

Jane looks at him, alarmed, brown eyes wide. She shakes her head, her ponytail whipping around.

"Pepper is safe, Tony. She's okay. Do you want me to go get her?"

Tony nods his head, closing his eyes as relief floods his systems and tears prick at his eyes. He didn't know what he'd do if Pepper died. He didn't know where Rhodey was and Jarvis had been lost along with the mansion and the suit… losing Pepper too would break him.

Jane watches him for a moment and then leaves the room without a word. A few minutes later, the door slams open and a red-eyed Pepper comes in. She crosses the room, as graceful and regal in baggy pants and long sleeves as she is in designer suits. She looks at him tearily, reaching to smooth back his hair. He gives her a crooked grin that falls flat.

"I'm okay, Pepper-pot. Just a flesh wound," he jokes. Pepper lets out a strange noise, half sob half laugh. She hugs him to her, careful not to jostle his side. He leans his head on her stomach, content with the feeling of her nails gently raking through his scalp.

She doesn't respond but Tony has to know.

"Who is it?"

Pepper remains silent for a moment and then the words are pouring out of her.

"...he did it to save me. The Hydra agent was aiming for me and he jumped in the way and- there was so much blood, Tony. So much and everytime I close my eyes, I see it. I see him," Pepper breathed, fingers curling into fists in Tony's hair. When he glances up at her, her eyes are glazed and far away.

"Pep, it's not your fault."

She looked down at him, blue eyes rimmed with red, her skin pale and freckled.

"It is. It's my fault he died… he wanted to thank you for saving him."

It clicks into place then. _Bruce._

A sort of crystalline numbness sweeps through Tony. He doesn't know how to respond. There is no anger, no tears, nothing. Only one thought jumps out at him, a never-ending loop.

 _I didn't save him. I only delayed the inevitable._

* * *

"On your left," Steve called to Sam, wrenching his knife from the skull of an undead. Sam whirled, taking out the legs from under the undead and stabbing it in the head. Steve looked at its grotesquely deformed jaw, skin hanging and flapping around. The flesh on it's chest long decayed, ribs and spine exposed.

"Ugly, aren't they?" Sam asked.

Steve curled his lip in distaste.

"You should have seen the ones that died in riot gear, just snapping away behind the helmet. Sad really," Sam chuckles darkly, toeing his boot across the loose dirt. Steve shook his head, still unable to believe that an entire military base had been unable to hold these creatures. You would think the military could defeat anything with the type of weaponry they had.

"I've been meaning to ask you, how did you come across Hydra?" Steve asked, turning away and wiping his knife on the edge of his shirt. Sam followed behind, closing the doors to the hospital behind him. They'd been at the hospital 3 days now, waiting for Tony to wake. The undead had barely made an appearance while the group had been there which made Steve suspicious. Usually, the undead were scattered all around. They only consolidated when they heard or saw proof of living beings. Their being quiet meant something… or someone… was drawing them in.

"They were torturing this guy when I found them. Seemed to be one of their own actually. They kept mentioning some group and a mansion, some failed mission I assumed. Wasn't till I heard a Captain Rogers mentioned that I realized you were with the group. I listened to them for a while, found your trail and traced it to the barn. They must have been tailing me," Sam said, lips twisting.

Steve kept his eyes on the ground as they began to walk back to the hospital.

"I just don't understand what they could want with Tony," Steve replied, pushing open another set of doors. _Or how they seemed to know so much about the group._

"From what I gathered, a weapon. The Iron Man suit maybe?" Sam suggested. Steve came to a still, facing Sam, brows furrowed.

"What is this Iron Man suit everyone keeps mentioning?"

Sam looked at him, incredulously.

"You've never heard of the Iron Man? War Machine?" A pause. "What cave have you been hiding in, man?"

Steve scowled at him, glaring harder when Sam only flashed him a smile. Sam slapped him on the shoulder, steering him down the wall.

"I'm guessing you've heard about Tony's time in Afghanistan?"

Steve nodded, listening attentively.

"Well after that… Incident, Tony built the Iron Man suit which was this weaponized suit of armor he wore to fight bad guys over the globe. I never personally saw it up close but the aerodynamic specs on that thing were INSANE. I did get to meet War Machine though. Colonel James Rhodes. Tony built him a suit as well, real close friends," Sam smiled as if remembering his encounter with the Colonel.

Steve frowned. _James Rhodes. Rhodey?_

He followed Sam up the stairs, lost in thought. At the top of the stairs, a hum of voices made Steve look up. The group was congregated in front of Tony's room, peering in curiously.

Steve's heart jumped into his throat suddenly, taking away his breath. He was awake.

* * *

She woke to the sensation of cold wet kisses on her cheeks. The cold air whipped around her, making her shiver. Dark eyes fluttered open, the barren, white view of the Russian countryside coming into focus. Digging her hands into the cold, soft snow, she sat up disoriented. Little snow flurries fell from above, catching on her lashes and her hair. A dull throbbing at her temple made her reach up, her fingers coming back stained a deep red. She must have hit her head when she fell.

The last thing she remembered was running through the forest, golden eyes at her back, chasing her through the darkness. A chill ran down her spine at the thought of it. She tugged her jacket closed, tucking her hands in her pockets. How long had she been unconscious?

She ran a hand down the length of her body, searching for bites. It was unlikely, the ground was too steep for the undead to have gotten this far up but it was a deeply ingrained sense of paranoia. The world had changed in a matter of weeks and far removed from her home, with no way to get back, she was stranded in deep Eastern Europe.

She picked herself up, reaching for the gun at her hip, her fingers numb. She found her backpack lying a few feet away. She swung it up onto her shoulder after a quick rummage through. Everything was still there. She was starting to pick her way down when she heard something crash through the forest. Dropping out of sight, she peered over the rocks in front of her, trying to get a view of whatever it was. A girl came crashing through the trees, her left leg dragging behind her limply. She looked over her shoulder, a sort of alarm in her movements. She turned to keep moving when her foot caught on an exposed root and she fell. The undead came ambling out of the forest, a grotesque thing with it's entrails hanging out and the flesh on its face almost black with blood. It moved towards the girl who scrambled back into the face of the outcropping, hands frantically searching the forest floor for something sharp enough to stab the creature. A sob ripped out of the girl's throat, desperate and full of fear.

Peggy made a split decision, moving from behind the outcropping and jumping down beside the girl. The girl behind her let out a shrill scream, the undead lunging at Peggy. Yanking her knife out, Peggy slashed at the creature viciously, catching it across the shoulder. The undead tumbled down from the force of her slash, struggling to get back up. Stepping up behind it, Peggy sunk her knife into its head, jerking it out with a spray of blood. She looked up at the girl before her. Blue eyes peeked at her from behind pale fingers, short brown hair matted and tangled. Peggy cleaned her knife on the creature's shirt, getting up. She scrutinized the girl for a moment, catching sight of the deep stab wound on her leg. Finally, after a long moment of silence, Peggy held her hand out to the girl.

"What happened to your leg?" Peggy asked, her voice scratchy and rough with disuse. The girl stared at her, wide-eyed for a moment. After a moment, she reached for Peggy's hand. Peggy pulled her up, sliding a hand around her waist. The girl looked at her gratefully, a small smile gracing her face.

"Some crazy girl with lots of daggers," the girl scoffed, contempt dripping from her words.

"What's your name?"

"Angie. Angie Martinelli."

* * *

NOTE: I am so sorrrrry for the long wait. October was a crazy month, trying to meet early application deadlines for college and November, I put all my energy into my NaNoWriMo story.

I hope you guys enjoyed. Thank you so much for the reviews and reads. Until next time.


	11. Chapter 11

They stood at the door, watching him incredulously. Since he'd woken up yesterday, Tony had been holed up in his room, working fervently on god knows what. When Steve had finally gone to sleep at around 2 am after his watch, Tony had still been up scribbling away, Pepper curled up asleep in the hospital bed. This morning when Steve had gone to check on him, he'd found the room a complete mess. Papers filled with scribbles and non-sensical drawings scattered all over the floor, copper wires strung up all throughout the room and in the middle of it all, Tony sitting on the floor, typing away on a laptop. Where he'd found a laptop was beyond Steve but he could guess as to how he was powering it judging by the broken husk of a defibrillator in the corner. What concerned Steve was the way the circles under Tony's eyes had darkened and the glassy faraway look his eyes took whenever he paused.

"What the hell is he doing?" Bucky asked quietly at his side.

Steve shrugged, eyes fixed on the man in the room. Steve had tried repeatedly to get Tony to rest but he wouldn't budge, he would just mumble about 'research' and continue working. Pepper had wandered off around dawn and had yet to return, having just told them to 'leave him alone until he resurfaced'. Tony showed no signs of doing so any time soon.

"Knowing Stark, he's probably already come up with 3 different ways on how to cure this thing," Natasha's voice came from behind Steve and it was only a testament to his training that he didn't jump a mile in the air. Natasha was still as silent as a ghost.

"Do you really think he could?" Steve asked, looking back at her. Knowing green eyes met his and flickered away, gaze landing on Tony. She nodded, red curls bouncing softly. She stepped past Steve and Bucky, stepping carefully around the scattered papers. She crouched down next to Tony, whispering something quietly in his ear. Tony blinked, his fingers stilling on the keyboard. He looked up at Nat, eyes bleary and red, and after a moment, he replied, voice low enough so only Natasha could hear what he'd said.

She quirked something resembling a smile and stood up, holding her hand out to him. Tony hesitated for a moment, looking back down at the laptop but eventually, he reached for her hand.

She lead him out of the room, past Bucky and Steve, and down the hallway, Tony speaking quietly. Steve doesn't really know what just happened but he takes advantage of Tony's absence from the room to take a peek at the laptop. Crouching down in front of it, he catches sight of the logo in the upper left corner.

 _FuturePharm_

There's a bunch of code to one side of the screen, scores of numbers and letters being analyzed and discarded within seconds. Steve would say that Tony was definitely trying to hack into this company's files but he doesn't understand why. What was his endgame? He watches lines of codes flicker on the screen. From the doorway, Bucky whistles, having stayed on lookout for when Natasha and Tony came back. Steve moves away from the laptop, ducking under one of the many wires Tony had strung up around the room. He joins Bucky at the doorway just as Tony is coming in with a chipped mug and the heel of a bread in his hands. He bumps into Steve and looks up, blue eyes a bit more alert. He mumbles something that sounds like an apology and steps past Steve, slumping back down in front of the screen.

Steve spares him a single glance, a tight ball of bitterness forming in his chest. He doesn't know how to fix this, how to help him.

* * *

Tony is so close. He can feel it. He's been looking through Stark Industries and all their subsidiary companies' projects and he may have found the answer. Even so, the numbers and letters on the screen blur together. He can't concentrate but he can't sleep either. He feels stuck, suspended in the air over a dark hole, barely holding on.

He doesn't know what he's doing... what he's looking for, he's not a biologist but Bruce... He owes it to Bruce. To at least try. A sharp pain aches in his chest and for a moment, he thinks it's over. The shrapnel has reached his heart and he will die but it hasn't because the arc reactor will never let it.

He opens his eyes, sore and aching, and he goes back to reading.

 _Clinical trials… military… exhibit immense durability and healing factors._

Then at bottom in dark red bold letters.

 **PROJECT TERMINATED**

What the hell had they been creating? Tony scrolled to the bottom of the page, grabbing one of the papers lying around and scribbling the address of the company down.

He settles down to read more of the clinical trials even as the letters swim before his eyes.

That night, once he's done reading and re-reading every single detail of the trials, he heads across the hall to where the group is having dinner. They fall silent at his arrival, eyes giving him once-overs. He knows he looks dead on his feet, not having slept for over 24 hours and neglecting to eat except for whatever Nat made him eat earlier. Still, the stares unnerve him. He hesitates in announcing his discovery instead walking over to Pepper and Darcy. Darcy gives a weird look before going back to her meal. Pepper eyed him shrewdly, a question in her eyes. Tony nods, grabbing the bowl that's passed back to him.

Conversations resume and Tony finishes his meal in silence, listening to Pepper and Darcy speak quietly. He's getting up from his spot on the floor when Clint finally asks the question everyone has been dying to ask.

"Did you find anything?" he calls out, his voice ringing out through the silence.

Tony takes a deep breath and turns back to face them.

"I think I may have found something that could act as a preventative measure against the undead virus."

Silence.

All at once, they begin to speaking, clamoring to be heard over the din of the other voices. Tony ignores them, speaking quietly, the other's voices dying down.

"Bruce… Bruce was talking about a way to prevent the virus from taking hold of the host body once infected. A way we could burn the virus out of our bloodstream… I found this company… a subsidiary of Stark Industries, FuturePharm, that was developing some kind of serum for the military. It made the test subjects stronger… faster, almost superhuman and there's some risks but it works and-"

"This isn't the time to play God, Tony," Steve's voice echoed in the silence that followed. The craning of necks was almost audible as everyone turned to look at Steve who had stood and was staring Tony down from the other end of the room. Tony glared.

"Who said I was trying to?" he gritted out.

"We can protect ourselves just fine," Steve reasoned.

"Just like we protected Bruce, right?"

Tony knew it wasn't fair to put that on Steve and he knew that lashing out at Steve wasn't going to change the fact of whom was really to blame. Himself. Still, it annoyed him that Steve wasn't even willing to listen to his idea.

"Back off Stark," Bucky warned without any real bite.

"Risks like what?" Nat asked, arching a delicate eyebrow. Jane stood up and left the room. Tony watched her go, heart sinking.

"If the serum doesn't successfully bond with the host body, it could prove to be… uh," Tony hesitated, dreading the backlash.

"The serum will burn you up from the inside and you will die," Jane's voice came from the doorway, her face lit up by the blue glow of the laptop's screen.

"It's supposed to be a last resort for the infected," Tony provided. He met Jane's eyes, saw the resolve there. Jane nodded.

"It does have a high success rate and it's better than the alternatives," Jane stated, walking further into the room. The alternatives. Dying or becoming one of them.

"Well, where is this miracle drug of yours, Stark?" Clint asked, looking up from one of his arrows. At the back of the room, Steve scowled harder, glaring at the back of Clint's head. Tony laughed nervously, scratching at the back of his head.

"Anyone up for a little Texas Roadhouse?"

* * *

Steve wanted to punch him. Stupid genius. Why couldn't the others see that this was a bad plan?

"You look like you want to murder him," Sam commented, sidling up to Steve's side.

"Very much so," Steve replied. Sam sighed, Nat coming up to them. She gave Sam a questioning look, giving Steve a disapproving look when Sam shook his head.

"Stop scowling, you're going to fossilize like that," Nat demanded. "Stark may be a few bolts loose but this is a good lead, one that can change the game and you know it."

Steve sighed. He'd read over the trials and aside from the glaring problem that two of the subjects had burnt up from inside, the serum did look like a good place to start. Between Tony, Jane and Thor, they could probably stabilize the serum. Steve just didn't like the idea of splitting up and he stated so.

Natasha looked pensive for a moment. She looked at Steve from the corner of her eye, lips twisting into a grimace. Sam was the voice of reason.

"Dragging the entire group to Texas will take too long and attract too much attention. The weather is only going to get colder. I don't like it either but the best shot they have is finding this place and it could be months before they do. We need to split up, Steve," Sam reasoned. Beside him, Nat nodded and Steve rubbed at his eyes.

"Okay. You're right. I know you are. Just run it by through me again, who's going with what group?"

Between the three, they rehashed out the plan, making changes where they saw fit.

The next morning, the other team was setting out. Comprised of Clint, Sam, Pepper, Darcy and Bucky, something that had been objected by several members of both groups, the group was setting out first to find the so-called safe haven.

Steve looked around, watching as the others said goodbye. Across the room, Jane, Darcy and Thor were saying goodbye, Darcy clinging onto Jane. Near them, Pepper and Tony were whispering together and on the other side of the room, Sam and Bucky were looking over the map of the area. In one corner of the room, far away from the others, Natasha and Clint were quietly speaking. Steve watched them for a moment, seeing the way in which they leaned towards each other, and part of him felt guilty at splitting them up. Although the days when it had only been them 3 were long gone, Steve still felt a connection with them. Steve headed to them first.

"... don't try to be tough, Nat. We all know how tough you are. Just come back," Clint was saying, full of sincerity. He continued on quietly, voice almost a whisper. "You know you're my best friend, right?"

Nat looked at him sadly for a moment and then ever so slowly, laid a hand on his cheek and kissed him. It was one of those kisses that came from a place of pain and longing. Clint's eyes slid close, his lips chasing hers when she pulled back.

 _Oh_.

Nat gave Clint one last look, an understanding passing between them and then she walked away. As Clint stared after her, Steve felt a sort of sinking in his chest. Before he could look away, Clint turned towards him, a lopsided attempt at a smile twisting itself into a grimace.

"What can I do for you, Cap?" he asked, voice awry. Steve fumbled for words.

"I just wanted to tell you to be safe on the road…" Steve said, clasping Clint's hand and pulling him in for a hug. In a low voice, he whispered into the air besides Clint's ear. "Look after them."

Steve pulled back and Clint nodded solemnly.

"You too."

Steve nodded, understanding the double meaning of his reply. He bade a brief goodbye to Pepper and Darcy whom he hadn't had the chance to talk to much and then he headed to talk to Sam.

"Take care of yourself, Rogers," Sam clasped his shoulder. Steve smiled warmly, returning the gesture with a tap.

"Watch your left, Sammy. You know it's your blind spot." Sam scowled and Steve laughed.

"Do me a favor, would you?"

"Anything for you, Cap. Name it."

Steve hesitated, peeking a glance at Bucky who was talking to Tony and Nat.

"Look out for Bucky. Don't… don't let him do anything stupid, okay?"

Sam nodded in understanding.

Finally Steve was left to say goodbye to Bucky. Their eyes met over Nat's shoulder and Bucky excused himself, coming to a stop before Steve.

"Don't you disappear on me again, Buck," Steve choked out, crushing Bucky against his chest. "You and me, right?"

"Till the end of the line," Bucky finished, voice hoarse. Steve pulled back, swallowing around the lump in his throat. He clapped his shoulder and stepped back as Bucky picked up his bag and slung it onto his back. He watched as the group gathered their bags and set out, glancing back at them every so often. They watched them hike up the street and disappear into the horizon.

Beside Steve, Natasha muttered something in Russian, a prayer, and on his other side, Tony spoke.

"And then there were five."

* * *

NOTE: So I was stuck with this chapter thus why its so crappy. I apologize for both the quality and the long wait. Until next time.


	12. Chapter 12

Electricity arced up his body, heating his blood until it felt like lava surged through his veins and burned under the surface of his skin. An eerie red glow emanated from his body, spider webbing across his chest, his face, his hands, burning brighter where cuts and bruises and bites littered his body. Someone was calling his name, he was cognizant enough of his surroundings to know that much.

He could hear shouting too and the groans of undead pounding at the fragile glass of the lab.

He tried to speak, tried to tell the others to leave him. Save themselves. He found that his tongue felt heavy in his mouth like a lead ball that threatened to slide down and choke him.

There was something crawling up his sides too, restricting him, making it difficult to breathe. It crept up the length of his body until slowly but surely, it closed over his face.

Overhead, the bright overhead lights of the lab blinked out and went black.

He was alone in the darkness.

* * *

Tony wadded into the cool waters, shivering with delight as the water rose around him. He plunged his hands into the water, watching as grime and dirt washed away in the river.

Far off to his right, Thor rose from the depths of the river naked, shaking his hair out like a dog. He laughed, wiping water from his face.

"If my brother Loki were here, he would make some cunning little joke about a snake shedding it's skin," he announced, a fond irrepressible smile on his face.

Tony peaked at him from under thick lashes. It hadn't been the first time Thor had mentioned his brother and Tony couldn't help but wonder, not for the first time either, just what had happened to him.

"He wouldn't be wrong. I think I just lost 10 pounds," Steve said, a little too loudly, floating on his back.

Farther down the river, Tony could just barely make out Natasha and Jane.

One week had found them straddling the border between Missouri and Arkansas. Down here, the weather was considerably warmer which was both a blessing and a curse. The cold slowed the undead but also made it more difficult for them.

The heat was an oppressing thing, clinging to them like a second skin, attracting dust, grime and dirt.

He stepped in a little further, his breath catching as the cold water rose to his hips, the sensation like a thousand little knives digging into his skin, revitalizing it. Any further and the creeping edge of hysteria that had already set in would awaken the sleeping beast, the one that clawed at his chest and made it difficult to breathe and reminded him of his time in Afghanistan.

No, Tony could wash up just fine like this.

He stripped off his t-shirt, shrugging off the discomfort that came with exposing the arc reactor. Scrubbing it hastily against the bar of soap he kept in his bag, he wiped himself down with the soapy rag, the sweat and grime swirling away into the clear clean water.

"I think I just saw a fish," Thor called, turning slowly in the water.

From the corner of his eye, Tony watched, mesmerized, as Steve righted himself and rose from the water, shirtless and dripping wet.

It was unfair really, how attractive Steve was and Tony isn't clueless, he knows that he's a bit far too intrigued by the captain.

Still… there's no harm in looking. It is the end of the world after all.

"Steve, hand me the fishing rod from my pack," Thor waves, staring into the depths of the water.

"We will dine like kings!" he flicked a quick grin at Tony, catching the rod that Steve throws him.

Steve and Tony watch with bated breaths as Thor carefully lowers the baited hook into the water. The ripples must scare off the fish because Thor curses and his shoulders droop in disappointment.

He looks like a sad wet puppy and Tony can't help but snicker at the comparison. Steve turns to him with a smile, heading towards the shore.

"What are you giggling about, Edward?" he teases.

Tony squawks indignantly and glares daggers in Natasha's direction.

"She's fired. Again," Tony huffs as he wallows to the shore with heavy, waterlogged pants.

"Actually, Pepper told me but I'm just teasing, Tony. No need to get your feathers all ruffled," Steve smiles, pushing wet hair out of his face.

"My feathers are just fine, thank you very much," Tony grumbles under his breath as he heads back to shore.

By unspoken agreement, they decide to start dinner together, quietly working to prepare enough stew to go with the meat they still had left over from one of Natasha's hunting trips.

Tony is trying to determine whether he should add more basil when Steve speaks up.

"You haven't been sleeping lately," he says softly as if wanting to ease into the conversation.

"It's none of your business," Tony responds after a pause and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Steve frown.

"It is my business. I'm your friend and out there, when it's our lives on the line and one moment of inattention means death, it matters. I'm just… I'm worried about you, Tony."

Tony pauses in stirring the pot, his hand a warm golden tone in the light of the flickering fire.

"You don't have to look after me. I know my limits," Tony intones quietly.

"I'm not implying you don't, Tony, but everyone needs help sometimes."

He can't handle the way Steve is looking at him, like he's fragile glass that needs to be handled with care and so, he screws his eyes shut and turns away, getting up from his spot and shoving past Thor who cheerfully shows him all the fish he's caught.

"Does he not like fish?" Thor asks behind him.

Tony sits down at the edge of the river, looking up at the stars. They're so much brighter out here in the middle of nowhere, no light pollution to obscure them. He supposes now there won't ever be anymore.

Behind him, he hears Jane and Natasha's voices as they join the others, settling down to eat.

It takes much longer than Tony expected for Steve to settle beside him, two plates in his hand. He hands one to Tony, quietly beginning to eat. After a few moments of silence, Tony allows himself to relax and begins to eat. The stew is thin and watery, nothing like how Bruce used to make it but it's hot and the meat is thick and succulent and Tony can't really ask for anything more than to be alive, warm and fed.

Tony doesn't know what possesses him to ask but the question slips from his lips before he can think about the conversation he's opened himself up to.

"Do you have nightmares, Steve?"

Steve freezes and then exhales shakily, spoon clinking back onto the plate as he seems to fortify himself. His voice is quiet and measured when he speaks.

"There's this dream I have… I'm on a plane and I'm crashing into the ocean and I- I can feel the ice creeping up my sides, freezing me to my core. It feels so real too, I wake up feeling frozen most nights."

Tony doesn't know how to respond to that, not because he didn't know the feeling but because he _did_. Only too well. So many nights, he woke up with images of Afghanistan flickering through his head, the phantom feeling of water burning in his lungs.

"Sometimes," Steve begins and then falters, looking up at Tony with eyes too bright, too haunted, "I feel like that ice is real and it's cutting away at me, taking me for all I'm worth."

Tony swallows around the lump in his throat, settling with placing a gentle hand on Steve's shoulder. Steve glances down at his hand, smiling bitterly. He reaches up to grab his hand, fingers circling Tony's wrist. There's something awfully interesting in the palm of his hand or so Tony presumes, from the way Steve is staring at it.

"I doubt anything could diminish you," he replies gently.

Abruptly, Steve stands, tugging Tony up with him. The last of his stew sloshes around in his bowl and Tony almost trips in his haste to right himself.

"Where are we going?" he asks as Steve pulls him by the wrist, leaving their plates near the fire where Jane and Thor have huddled for warmth and Nat is sharpening her knives.

She shoots Tony an inquiring look as Steve leads them away from the fire and into the dark forest.

"Is this the part where you kill me and bury the body?" Tony laughed humorlessly, his pulse jumping when Steve gently squeezes his wrist, thumb brushing against the underside of it.

Steve barked a laugh, shooting Tony a wide grin over his shoulder. Tony's breath catches and for a second, he thinks about what it'd be like to kiss Steve. He shakes the thought away, ignoring the way warmth spreads through his body at the thought.

"There are far more effective ways of disposing a body, Tony," he teased.

Tony shouldn't be so endeared by talk of body disposure.

"Speaking from experience, Rogers?"

"Tony, stop talking."

Steve turns, blue eyes bright with mischief and fingers still circling Tony's wrist. He tugs Tony closer, dipping down so their faces are only a hair of a breadth away from each other.

"Can I kiss you?"

Steve's voice is a murmur, a soft brush of lips against his cheeks. Tony feels his breath hitch.

He leans up in response, his lips finding Steve's. Steve's lips are soft and warm and the spices of the stew are a lingering burst of flavor. The kiss starts off slow, Steve brushing a thumb over Tony's cheekbone as he angled his face up.

Tony whines lowly in his throat when Steve presses him back into the rough surface of a tree, nipping and sucking at his bottom lip, the kisses open-mouthed and hot. He hooks an arm around the back of Steve's neck, fingers coming up to explore the fine strands of Steve's hair, tugging him closer gently until they're flush against one another.

Coming up for breath, Tony gasps as Steve mouths a path up to the spot just below his ear, his legs feeling weak and rubbery under him.

"Steve…" he pants, his heart hammering in his chest.

Steve pauses in his ministrations, tucking his face into the crook of Tony's neck, his breath a warm puff of air against Tony's shirt.

"I've been wanting to do that for so long," Steve murmurs, voice barely audible through the fabric.

Tony rakes his fingernails down the nape of Steve's neck, mind working furiously to understand how they've come to this.

He wants to tell Steve how long he's wanted to kiss him, to hear his voice breathless with want, to see his cheeks flushed and lips kiss-swollen and red. He opens his mouth to put words to the feeling in his chest, a bright and warm sensation, like the one he'd felt when he'd first kissed Pepper, and his breath catches. Steve is mouthing hot open kisses up the side of Tony's neck, teeth biting softly down on the jut of his collarbone. A shiver runs down Tony's spine and he's pulling, yanking at soft fine hairs, desperate to feel those lips on his.

His hand slides down Steve's chest, fingers seeking the soft warm skin underneath, Steve's own hand reaching down to hitch a leg up on his hip. The new angle cants Tony's hips up and _oh- oh,_ the friction there makes him want to shout with want.

Tony's thoughts are rapidly deteriorating into a jumbled mess of _Steve Steve Steve Steve_ and _fuck oh god this is how I die._

Steve's lips leave his, breath hot and panting and Tony takes the opportunity to run his fingers down the sculpted jaw, to memorize the way Steve's eyes, pupils blown wide with only the thinnest ring of blue to remind him of their natural color, look when they peek at him from underneath thick lashes.

The nagging voice at the back of his head shouts at him that this is a terrible idea, that he can't afford distractions and for a second, he rethinks it all but then Steve breathes his name and Tony's defenses crumble.

He leans forward, resting his forehead against Steve's, hands slipping out from under Steve's shirt and reaching down to entwine his fingers with Steve's.

This… this he could fight for. This, he would.

* * *

Peggy yawned, eyes cracking open and peering around blearily. A few feet away from her, Angie was curled up on her side, lips parted, dark hair matted around her head. Outside, she could hear the wind howling. It was growing harder and harder to travel throughout the day to find food and shelter but at the very least, Angie's leg had improved. Peggy counted it a blessing that the undead were slowed by the snow.

All she wanted to do was go back to sleep and forget the nightmare the world outside had become but they had a long day ahead of them and they couldn't afford to waste any time. Peggy shook Angie awake, ignoring her complaints.

"It's too early, English," Angie mumbled, burrowing under her blanket.

"Oh get up, you ninny," Peggy snatched the blanket up, balling it up and throwing it back at Angie's prone form. Angie glared up at her.

"I hate you," Angie announced.

"You and I both know that's not true," Peggy retorted, smiling when she heard Angie muttering under her breath.

They folded up their blankets and settled down for a breakfast of stale granola bars and a can of peaches. Angie was halfway through a story about one of her auditions when Peggy heard it, faint but undeniably there. She leaned across the space between them, slapping her hand against Angie's mouth. Angie looked back at her wide-eyed. Peggy strained her ears, trying to catch that sound again.

The sound of voices.

Pressing a finger to her lips, Peggy stood, shouldering her bag. She motioned Angie to do the same, leaving the remains of their breakfast on the floor. Picking up the rifle they'd found in an abandoned cabin a while back, Peggy cracked open the door to the hall. Voices drifted up, rough and low. Waving Angie back, Peggy crept down the stairs, careful to keep away from the railings lest the intruders saw her. She kept her finger poised on the trigger, unease swirling in her stomach.

She crouched next to the banister, ears straining to hear what the group was talking about. There was a lull in the conversation and high above them, someone screamed. Peggy froze, her blood running cold. _Angie._

She turns to go up the stairs when the sharp sting of steel kisses her throat and a warm body presses up behind her.

"Where do you think you're going?"

* * *

"I miss Barton. You guys are too serious," Tony muttered, peeking out from behind the tree.

"Tony…"

"Yes, dear?"

Steve grimaced, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

"Keep it down," Natasha hissed, eyes roaming the infested parking lot before them.

"Jane-" Tony began, only to be cut off by Jane herself.

"Don't drag me into this, Tony," she murmured, glancing up from the parts of her gun.

Steve watched in disgust as the undead fed off the rotting starved corpse of a horse.

Eyeing the distance to the main building, Steve turned to Nat.

"The cars are keeping them contained inside the lot. If we time this right, we can make it across and inside without the herd even noticing us."

"And how do we know inside isn't just as full of undead?" Thor questioned lowly, head tilted back and resting on the door of the rusting car behind him.

"We don't," Steve admitted, "but if there's something in that building that can help us, help everyone, I think that's a pretty good way to go, don't you?"

"America's knight in shining armor, ladies and gentlemen," Tony says, lips twitching with mirth. Steve ducks his head to hide the smile that blossoms on his face.

Nat scoffs, grabbing her knives and ducking into the cover of the car ahead of them. Steve turns to the other three, an unspoken understanding passing between them. ' _Watch each other's back', 'keep low and stay quiet'._

One by one, they creep down the line of cars quietly.

They're only halfway through the lot, silently making their way past the horde of undead just on the other side of the cars they're crouched behind when the cylinders drop. The air mists over with smoke and the groans of the undead double as they begin to cough, eyes watering from the chemicals. They stumble away from the cover of the cars as the undead throw themselves at the barrier with renewed vigor.

Steve isn't sure who he brushes up against but somehow, they find themselves in a huddle in the middle. For the briefest moment, the smoke clears and Steve catches sight of the insignia on the group. HYDRA.

"What do we do?" Jane called out, voice shaky with tears and panic.

Steve turned, catching the determined glint in Tony's eyes. He knows that they can't let Extremis fall into the wrong hands, not if it could possibly work as a deterrent for the virus and he knows that HYDRA won't ever give up on finding Tony. He nods, reaching for the gun at his hip. From the corner of his eye, he sees Nat twirling her blades in her hand, Jane's finger on the trigger awaiting command, Thor's hand tightening on the strap of his hammer.

Steve sucks in a deep breath and turns back towards the offending group.

"We make our stand here."

* * *

NOTE: I'm baaaack! Properly motivated to finish this story and with the time to actually follow through! Hope you guys enjoyed it!


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